What makes you tick
by Taipan Kiryu
Summary: TF Prime. One Autobot, one Decepticon, an unfortunate encounter with MECH and an entangled web none of them meant to happen. An Arcee and Knock Out story.
1. Chapter 1

**What makes you tick**

**Written by Taipan Kiryu**

Summary: TF Prime. One Autobot, one Decepticon, an unfortunate encounter with MECH and an entangled web none of them meant to happen. An Arcee and Knock Out story.

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><p><em>Okay, after finally catching up with the fifteen episodes of Transformers Prime aired so far I can say that I'm officially in love with the series, THE worthy successor of G1 in my opinion. So it didn't take long for me to write my first TF Prime fic. <em>

_Many thanks to iratepirate for beta reading this chapter in barely eight hours. I take it she liked it ;o) _

_By the way, this story happens after the episode 'Convoy'. There will be some small spoilers during the story, but nothing to trouble those ones who haven't seen all the aired episodes so far._

**Chapter 1**

**An automobile enthusiast**

Jasper, Nevada, the universal capital of dust.

Or at least that was a certainty that the yellow Lamborghini Murcielago LP670-4 had acquired after its humiliating, _extremely humiliating_, defeat.

'_Superveloce' my shinny exhaust… _Knock Out thought about returning and turning his shame of a rival into a wreck – it reminded him of the Autobot scout, after all, but he had just had his hood repaired after the encounter with the large, sharp finger of a certain soon to be Lord Starscream, and the last thing he was looking for was another session of that painful kind.

He veered elegantly to avoid a small boulder sprawled over the road. The accursed minerals were everywhere, turning the racetrack into a trap and a permanent threat to any mech who appreciated his finish as much as his spark, but there was nothing else in Jasper, Nevada, than irregular, dusty roads, so they would have to do if Knock Out wanted to continue his favorite hobby.

And racing was definitely something he was eager to do that night, especially now that his previous encounter had been rather a pathetic challenge. Victories of that kind were as annoying as dust itself, but Knock Out was learning quickly that worthy rivals were something he was not going to find on planet Earth, even less in Jasper, Nevada.

"_Knock Out," _a voice through his comm link said.

"Ah, Breakdown," he replied, lamenting for a moment that Breakdown's heavy structure didn't allow him to be a decent racing partner. "You are missing such a particularly starry night."

"_Racing again?"_ Breakdown asked curtly. _"Starscream's been asking for you."_

The smallest tingle of annoyance in Breakdown's voice would have gone unnoticed to the rest of the Universe, perhaps even to Breakdown himself, but not to Knock Out. He certainly knew that his partner was not pleased by being left aside in whatever private agenda Knock Out was up to. They had a tacit agreement regarding the respect of each other's privacy, but still, Breakdown needed a constant reminder of his partner's presence, no matter the situation. Breakdown was very strong and cold, but he had a particular distaste for loneliness.

"I trust you told him I was doing some very important research in order to assure the total restoration of our leader… or to continue delaying it," Knock Out said, slightly chuckling to himself.

"_Come back to the base," _Breakdown's voice wasn't getting any more sympathetic. _"You left without authorization."_

"Authorization, _mein freund_, is another demagogic word that I conveniently tend to forget when I—whoa…"

"_What is it? Do you need help?" _Breakdown's annoyance was momentarily replaced by concern.

Knock Out smiled to himself, analyzing the possibilities of the sight before him. "Question, Breakdown. How high do you think I'll jump if I drive at two hundred miles per hour over a thirty foot dune?"

There was a pause, in which Breakdown was certainly doing the proper calculations.

"_What's the length of the dune?"_

"I'm just about to find out," Knock Out said, his excitement adding to the fuel in his combustion chamber. "I'll keep a recording of this for you, partner!"

Knock Out accelerated, reaching sixty miles per hour in less than two seconds. He wasn't very keen on performing stunts. Racing was his thing, not circus, but he knew how much Breakdown liked that kind of maneuver and he thought it wouldn't do any harm to add a little something to his friend's video file collection.

His speedometer was beyond two hundred when he reached his objective. It was more irregular than he had thought, but still it would be enough to execute a very decent jump.

His tires leaving the ground was never a welcome change, but Knock Out found the nocturnal air pleasant, as pleasant as it could be when caressing his frame with painless brutality. He repressed the cry of excitement because he considered it vulgar, but he enjoyed the little stunt nevertheless. Nothing compared to a good race, of course, but still it was almost as good as trying the resistance of an Autobot's spark chamber with his Energon prod.

He skidded as soon as he returned to the ground, arousing a cloud of dust that his paint job certainly wasn't grateful for. Still, the experience had been enjoyable, the kind that he would probably repeat. Probably.

"_Are you done?" _Breakdown asked right on time.

"You bet."

"_How was it?"_

"I give it a five on my scale. No, change that to a four. I don't know why some bots make such a fuss about this kind of thing, you amongst them… You would have been one hell of a Stunt Con, Breakdown, had you had a lighter chassis."

"_Maybe you should start by explaining to me what the slag a Stunt Con is. But forget about that and get back here. I finished with the task you assigned me and Starscream will be here asking for you again any minute."_

Knock Out's attention was caught by a sudden appearance on his radar. "If he does, tell him to wait. I may be a little late for dinner tonight."

"_Knock Out…"_

"Just give me five minutes, _mein freund._ Ten, tops."

Without waiting for an answer, Knock Out shut off his comm link. Breakdown was his partner and the one bot he called friend, but still there were times in which his absence was not unpleasant.

"So, it seems like I will have some fun tonight after all," Knock Out said as he headed toward the distant formation of lights. It was about time. Friday night on the outskirts of Jasper, Nevada, usually meant race night, and he would have been extremely disappointed in that forsaken place in Earth's geography if such habit stopped only for a couple of bad experiences – which he had caused, by the way. But then again, what was bad for the humans, was good for him.

This time, though, he waited for the race to start. He didn't want to attract too much attention from the very start; he preferred the satisfaction of making a dazzling entrance, not to mention that he didn't want any of those human creatures to scratch his paintjob again. It wouldn't be good for the competition if he slaughtered his rivals right at the beginning of the race.

Time went by so slow sometimes, especially when Knock Out was eager to race and he was forced to wait. He watched the cars gaining speed in seconds that felt like hours. How many accursed nano kliks did it take a human car to reach a decent two hundred miles per hour?

Engine roaring, Knock Out couldn't wait anymore and headed towards the turtle bots. It seemed like none of them would challenge his abilities that night. But then again, who could?

He came to an abrupt halt, though, before he could enter the cars' range of vision. Remembering his recent stunt, he realized that, perhaps, he could add some extra fun to the game. What was the point in wasting a Friday night in a race that had nothing to offer him, after all?

_Perfect, _he thought as he caught sight of a nearby boulder about the size of Breakdown in alt mode. Perhaps he would damage his tires a little, but a good entrance was worth the risk.

He turned off his lights and headed toward his objective, already calculating the best angle to jump. He had his glossy finish to consider, but his reputation also. If he was going to become a legend in those underground races, he had to make sure to state his superiority and good looks at the same.

Once again, no cry of excitement left his vocalizer when he became airborne again, and only felt a small amount of discomfort when he remembered that he had forgotten to record that stunt for Breakdown. But he quickly forgot about that, as he landed right between two cars and forced them to veer brusquely, one of them ending its shameful trip in the ravine to the side. Ah, poor human reflexes were such a delight to abuse…

He focused his attention on the black car leading the competition, which, much to Knock Out's amusement, increased its speed at the sight of the newcomer. Still, it wasn't enough for Knock Out's expectations. He was tempted to attack the car instead of passing it, but he was not going to blow an automobile into pieces from behind when he could do it from the front. Car and pilot had to feast their eyes on the perfection of his rear bumper right before meeting their doom. It was only fair.

So he passed the black car, taking a moment to enjoy the look of fear on the pale face of the driver. Once Knock Out reached the imaginary finish line he had marked for the race, he activated his missile launcher. It was going to be fun watching that car and its organic companion become one with the scrapheap.

But the fun went away the moment his missile flew upwards instead. Knock Out was so upset that he completely forgot the black car, which hurried to escape.

"Beacon?" Knock Out said moments before his missile exploded in the sky, making him brake.

Had he been in robot mode, he would have frowned. He hit his accelerator instead, instinct kicking in and proving him right, because one second later the empty space he left behind was impacted by a mild laser beam.

"Tss tss, attacking me from behind, Autobot? Not very honourable on your part, I'd say," he said, doing a frantic search with his radar until the concealed energy signature appeared. To his surprise, and disappointment, it wasn't the Autobot scout, but the two-wheeler female.

"You'd be being kicked out of the Well of Allsparks at this precise moment if my intention had been attacking you from behind, Decepticon. That was only a warning shot," the female said, her figure clear in his left rear view mirror.

"A _failed _warning shot, _mein Frau, _and regretfully for you, the last one as well." Knock Out loved how his voice sounded accompanied by a good dose of firepower – inflicted by himself, of course – so he wasted no time in greeting the Autobot intruder accordingly.

The femme avoided the attack and headed towards him, her speed arousing Knock Out's competitive spirit.

"Not bad… for a two wheeler," Knock Out said, momentarily shutting his weapon system down and concentrating on the potency of his engine. _See if you can follow me, schöne Frau. In other words, see if you like my dust!_

Promises of an entertaining Friday night were made when the Autobot closed the distance between them.

"Enjoying the view, Autobot? You wouldn't be the first female to fall into the charms of my exhaust."

"Oh, I have seen better," the femme curtly replied.

Knock Out had never been able to tell the difference between a scratch and an attack on his ego, and this time wasn't going to be the exception. He released a stream of oil at his pursuer, but the Autobot avoided it easily.

"You are going to have to try harder than that. Tricks intended for rookies are not going to work with me."

Knock Out's engine roared in anger, taking the hint. If that Autobot slut liked it rough, he would be happy to provide. And terrestrial nature would help, for once. The dune he had jumped earlier came into his sight, a perfect destination to state his superiority and crush an Autobot's spark. What could be better than two treats instead of one?

"The rookie, _schöne Frau, _is yet to be exposed. Care for a steam treatment?"

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><p>Arcee had seen Knock Out barely a couple of times, but she already knew that she couldn't stand him. He was worse than a Decepticon, he was a <em>vain <em>Decepticon. And utterly cruel, as she had read behind his pretentious smirk and arrogant pose. She knew the bots of his kind, remarkably good looking but equally fatuous, not the kind of enemy she preferred to fight.

Arcee veered to avoid the dark cloud of smoke that Knock Out directed at her. Trying to blind her was just another dirty trick, and justification enough for her to release some real firepower on him.

But she didn't. As much as the Decepticon's proximity made him a target difficult to miss, Arcee had her honour to respect. That was a fight she wasn't going to win by shooting the enemy from behind. That wasn't her style.

"Are you running out of dirty tricks, Decepticon?"

A snort could be heard. "Actually, not yet. I was just enjoying myself whilst I wait for your slow, second hand engine to give me a worthy challenge."

"If it's a challenge what you want…" Arcee increased her speed and executed a perfect jump, but her tires found the pavement again and not the intended hood of the Decepticon medic. How in the Universe that insufferable glitch could be a medic was something she would never be able to understand.

"And you failed!" he spat the evident. "What's the matter, _schöne Frau_? Am I a bit too fast for your lady engine? The finish line is just ahead and you are about to become the loser!"

Arcee increased her speed, momentarily being driven by anger. It had taken her a lot of effort to become a skilled warrior, and no Decepticon jerk was going to make fun of her.

It was in that moment of self-blindness in which she realized that the Decepticon was not driving anymore. He was in the air, propelled by a dune conveniently placed beside the road. For once, Arcee didn't think, her mind never processing if she could be getting into a trap or not. She just followed, her lighter form allowing her to fly higher than the Decepticon.

She transformed in mid air, ready to fall on him and give an end to his pathetic show, but suddenly he wasn't there anymore. Gravity did its thing and the next thing she faced was the two sharp edges of an Energon prod, ready to welcome her beneath. She tried to avoid the painful outcome but inertia was her enemy. Intense pain on her left side announced just where the blasted prod had pierced her, but that was nothing compared to the energy discharge that followed.

Arcee squirmed and managed to remove the Energon prod from her frame, but she fell backwards, still shaken by the thousands of volts that had just punished her.

"My, my," the equally piercing laugh came afterwards. "Now that was my bad. I targeted your spark chamber, Autobot. Apologies for the mistake, but pain, you'll see, is never unnecessary."

"The only mistake you make is thinking this is over, Deceptiscum" Arcee said between clenched dental plates, uselessly trying to regain strength enough to attempt getting on her feet.

She groaned when he straddled her, pinning her to the ground. His smell arrived clearly to Arcee's olfactory sensors; it was a mixture of perfumed wax and oil, strangely sweet and definitely not the kind of smell a Decepticon should have.

"The name is Knock Out, femme," he said, taking her out her trance by lifting his Energon prod above her head. "Remember it well, because it's the name of the one who terminated you. But consider yourself lucky, as you will be blessed with the sight of my face before your spark extinguishes. Not many bots face terminal shutdown with such a beautiful sight, with the exception of my victims, of course."

Quickly forgetting about his blasted, delicious smell, Arcee focused all her attention on saving her life. "Beautiful?" she said. "Even after a bird made a mess on your headlights, you mean?"

Instinctively, Knock Out looked to his chest. His good looks had turned into his weakness. It had taken a simple lie to distract him, and that distraction would be his doom. Seeing her opportunity, Arcee grabbed his Energon prod and managed to hit him on the chin, his entire body shaken by the energy discharge that followed.

His cry of pain was music to Arcee's audio receptors. In a second she kicked him away from her and was on her feet, her blaster pointed at the shaken Decepticon's face.

"Move and inch and history will only remember you because of your melted face. Now roll over… slowly."

Knock Out smirked weakly. "N-now that sounds kinky…"

She frowned, the metal restraints in her free hand trembling slightly. "Roll over, I said! I'm taking you into custody, Decepticreep, and you can be certain that I will do it no matter if you are in one or a hundred pieces."

Knock Out scowled but said nothing, out of words for perhaps the first time in his arrogant life. He was barely starting to move when his optics flickered, taken by surprise by the circle of light that suddenly engulfed both Cybertronians.

Arcee dropped the restraints and looked upwards, her blaster following the movement of her gaze. An ambush! The Decepticons were attacking her from the sky!

She saw a heavily armored helicopter above her, but no familiar energy signature came from it.

"Humans…" she said, recognizing the same kind of aircraft that had attacked them the day the Autobots had helped transport the D.N.G.S. at agent Fowler's request.

A strong kick to her knee took her out of her thoughts, sending her to the ground. She saw Knock Out reaching out to his Energon prod, only to be impacted by some sort of spike that was shot from the helicopter and plunged into his right shoulder plates. As soon as it hit its target, the spike released a very powerful amount of energy. The Decepticon's cry of pain hurt Arcee's audio receptors, and suddenly she found herself feeling sorry for him.

But sorry didn't mean careless. She realized she was going to be next when a rain of firepower fell over her, but she was faster. Gracefully avoiding the human manufactured bullets, she shot two rounds of laser bolts at the helicopter, intended not to destroy, but to incapacitate. Despite the intentions of those humans, she would never forget the absolute respect all Autobots had concerning life.

The helicopter lost altitude and began to smoke from the undercarriage. It crashed some feet away, but the energy punishing Knock Out didn't stop.

Keeping an optic on the fallen helicopter, Arcee headed towards Knock Out, who was on his knees and uselessly trying to remove the spike from his shoulder.

"Oh blast, and now I have to save you… Why doesn't the Autobot code of honour make an exception for arrogant jerks that smell like fresh wax?" she said ill-humoredly, kneeling beside him and carefully grabbing his shoulder.

Arcee jolted, something stinging her hand as soon as she removed the spike torturing the Decepticon, which turned to dust between her fingers. Knock Out fell heavily on the ground, his body still shaking. Arcee took a quick glance at the thin gash on the back of her hand before looking over her shoulder and returning her attention to the helicopter. It was still smoking but a quick scan revealed that there was no danger of explosion. She couldn't see any movement inside either.

Suddenly, a sharp figure beside her face reminded her of just what kind of company she was in.

"Great," she said, looking from the Energon prod to Knock Out, who seemed mildly recovered and was already sitting on the ground. "I save your life and you point that thing at my face. So much for Decepticon gratitude."

"An inexistent concept, as you are about to see." For the cocky tone of his voice, his recovery was a done thing. "And for the record, you didn't save me. I could have removed that thing myself."

She smirked. "Of course, you were just waiting for the perfect moment."

He scowled, but instead of attacking Arcee he stood up and directed his glance toward the helicopter. "You are lucky my hunting priorities have just changed. Step aside, Autobot."

Arcee stood up as fast as she could and jumped away from his reach, pointing at him with her blaster. "I won't let you harm these humans. Leave whilst I still feel generous, Decepticon."

Knock Out seemed confused. "These creatures attacked us… and you defend them?"

"Yes, but don't hurt your poor processor. You would never understand."

Knock Out tightened his grip on his Energon prod. "So we return to the starting line… Fine with me. I wonder if your head will look just as beautiful on my prod when I remove it from your body."

Arcee narrowed her optics, disturbed by the bizarre mixture of compliment and threat. She wasn't in the mood to continue fighting Knock Out, but in the end, there was no other thing an Autobot and a Decepticon could do.

She remained in a fighting stance, waiting for him to make the first move. Besides not wanting to fight him, it wasn't right to attack him when his shoulder plates were leaking vital fluid. He was visibly hurt and she was not going to take advantage of that. Knock Out seemed hesitant too, most likely because the loss of energy.

An unexpected intruder blinked on her radar. Knock Out certainly noticed it too because he looked to the right. One light appeared coming from the highway, followed soon by another dozen.

"We have company," Knock Out said. "And not of your kind, I can see."

"Not of yours either."

Knock Out subspaced his Energon prod. "Which means we just became someone else's hunting priority… Well, it was fun hanging out with you, _schöne Frau,_ but I'm calling it off for the night. Have fun with your beloved humans!" he said, transforming and wasting no time in heading in the opposite direction of the lights.

"So much for Decepticon bravery!" she shouted, trying to reach his obnoxious audio receptors. "But I guess that's just another inexistent concept for you, isn't it?"

She didn't know if he had heard her, and she actually didn't care. She took a look at the gash on her hand before transforming into her motorcycle mode and starting the dishonorable labor of putting distance between her and the arriving humans. She was sure she had seen something shining in the wound, but she disregarded the thought. She had no doubt that the mysterious MECH organization was behind all that and she had to inform Optimus Prime immediately.

Arcee's radar showed that the humans were not interested in following her. She wondered if they were after Knock Out instead, but that was a thought she managed to disregard as well. She had priorities of her own, another reason why she was so disturbed when suddenly she couldn't think about anything else but that invading, blasted fragrance of wax and oil.

_To be continued._

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><p><em>Did somebody else thought about the Stunticons when Knock Out and Breakdown appeared for the first time? Aside the obvious association because of Breakdown – a Stunticon in G1 – the fascination with cars, aesthetics and cocky attitude of Knock Out brought the Stunties right into my mind, so that 'Stunt Con' line was my little tribute to the coolest Decepticon Gestalt team ever. <em>

_It's wonderful what we can do with the characters at this early stage of the series. Knock Out spoke in German once, but I really liked when he did it and I decided to play with that a little more._

_I hope you liked this first chapter. My beta reader hated me for leaving it there, but I promise a fast update. Please let me know your opinions, they are a big inspiration to continue :o)_


	2. Tell me where it tingles

_Many thanks for welcoming this story so wonderfully. I loved all your reviews and favorites. _

_Gratitude as well to iratepirate, for beta reading this chapter once again in a click of an optic. Thanks sis!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**Tell me where it tingles**

A sudden, irritating spasm shocked Knock Out's frame as he made his way towards the Repair Bay. He scowled and regained his balance, grateful that there was nobody close to witness his momentary lack of grace.

He directed his hand towards his right shoulder, his scowl getting bigger when his fingers grazed shredded metal in the place where only perfection should exist. The edges of the wound caused by whatever the humans had shot him with were so sharp that they tested the pain receptors of his fingers. Not good; not to his vanity, not to his finish… He didn't know what was worse: having being hurt by a group of insects, or having had an Autobot as an uncomfortable witness…

Knock Out frowned at the memory of the Autobot female. Losing a fight was almost as bad as losing a race – even though he had never actually lost a race in his life. True, he usually left hand to hand combat to Breakdown, but he wasn't bad at it himself. He was fast, agile, cunning, beautifully dangerous… and quite creative with his Energon prod when the time to inflict damage and pain came. That's why it was twice as humiliating knowing that an Autobot damsel had managed to gain the upper hand in a battle that should have been his from the beginning. Add the unwanted intervention of that group of disgusting humans and there it was, a night that Knock Out would have qualified as shameful, to say the least.

That mixture was what took him to the real origin of his conflict. When dealing with insects, he liked to step on them personally. The aid of an enemy was not precisely something he was looking forward to having, especially if said enemy was a femme. Knock Out didn't have problems with femmes as long as they remained where they belonged – in other words, attached to his spark chamber. But when they changed their pleasure inflicting abilities for weapons…

The problem only got bigger when said femmes were not that bad looking, which was the case of the accursed Autobot. She would definitely fit better in a pleasure house than on the battlefield.

Knock Out cursed inwardly when another short circuit in his shoulder shocked his frame. There was one thing he was sure about: he had had better days.

* * *

><p>"Lord Megatron is not going to get any shinier," Knock Out said as soon as he entered the Repair Bay.<p>

Breakdown startled slightly, the buffer in his hands stopping its work on the immobile – and _very _shiny– chest plates of the Lord of all Decepticons.

"You took more than ten minutes," Breakdown growled, turning around to face his partner and putting the buffer on a nearby tray.

Knock Out shrugged his shoulders. "You know how it is. Time flies when you are enjoying yourself."

Breakdown lifted one optic ridge at the sight of the small torrent of sparks that jumped from Knock Out's shoulder with the movement. "Not your kind of usual enjoyment, from what I can see," he said as he grabbed Knock Out somewhat roughly and turned him around to have a better view of his sparking shoulder.

Knock Out didn't enjoy being handled like that, but that was one of the many liberties he allowed Breakdown to have with him. "That's something I'm not going to discuss." And he didn't want to, really. He usually had no secrets with Breakdown, but he wasn't eager to share how a female Autobot had shoved his pride up his exhaust. And he really wasn't looking forward to telling the tale of puny humans actually managing to hurt him either. He was much better than that.

Fortunately, Breakdown had always respected his silences and it seemed like this time wouldn't be the exception. But respecting his silences and respecting his private space was a very different thing, as Breakdown proved when he didn't release his friend and was close to embedding him in the repair berth next to Megatron, a little too brusquely for Knock Out's taste, but then again, Breakdown was too strong to be subtle.

Knock Out hit the metallic surface with his chin when he was forced to lie face down. He complained between gritted dental plates but expecting any kind of apology from Breakdown was like expecting the bigger Decepticon to be delicate. Impossible, in both cases.

"How does it look?" Knock Out asked instead, assuming a more comfortable position and resting his chin on his crossed arms.

Breakdown touched the injury on his shoulder, making him flinch. "Minor, although by your standards, it could be fatal. Partial exposure of circuitry, which is burned by the way… but aside from that, I would hardly call this a wound."

"Hilarious, Breakdown. I really don't want to know what you consider serious damage. But can you repair my shoulder? It would be slightly difficult for me to do it, as you certainly noticed, given the location of the injury. And when I say slightly, I'm being ironic."

"I guess I can— oh…"

"What do you mean by _oh?_ I don't like it when 'oh' is applied to my paintjob._"_

"You're not going to like this, but this could be worse than your paintjob."

"What do you— ouch! _That _hurt!" Knock Out complained when Breakdown's fingers reached the rim of his wound and took a first, brusque examination of his exposed circuitry.

"Who did this to you?" Breakdown asked. "This is no Autobot doing."

"I— aaargh!" Knock Out cried when a short circuit on his shoulder shocked his entire body and made him jerk upwards. "Now that _really _hurt!"

Breakdown stopped touching the injury but forced Knock Out to return to his previous position, once again a little too roughly. "You were stabbed with some kind of weapon, not of the kind of your Energon prod, though."

"You don't say…" Knock Out groaned. "But I wasn't stabbed, I was shot. Some humans shot me with something in the back."

"Humans?" Breakdown said, not without malice. "I wouldn't go around saying that a pet messed with me. What happened? The little flesh bags got tired of you interrupting their races?"

"Ha fragging ha," Knock Out replied with a scowl. "I insist, you are one cheerful robot tonight, Breakdown. For your information, these humans were no ordinary humans. They were organized, heavily armed." Knock Out couldn't see his partner's face, but he was sure the slagger was sneering. Not much, because Breakdown was not particularly keen on expressing his feelings through facial expressions, but still, there had to be some small, twisted smirk on his face plates. It couldn't be any other way, considering it had been human bugs, regardless of being armed, who had hurt a Decepticon warrior. Degrading and humiliating were mere shadows of what Knock Out thought about the matter.

"But what the slag did they shoot you with?" Breakdown insisted, once again getting physical with his friend's injury.

Knock Out groaned in pain. "How… could I know? I told you it was a treacherous shot… and it wouldn't hurt you to be more careful!"

The medic could hear Breakdown's fingers rubbing against each other. "I'm just saying it because your circuits are dripping with some sort of... slime."

Knock Out pushed himself upwards. "Slime?"

"Or lubricant, I don't know…" Breakdown moved and showed Knock Out his two fingers covered with something red and viscous.

Knock Out frowned and got up from the repair berth. "So the humans had specific intentions, after all… Come, I'll take a sample."

Breakdown followed his partner to the workbench close to Megatron's berth and kept his hand still as Knock Out extracted the sample in a glass plate.

"I should have known," Knock Out hissed. "Those filthy parasites finding us wasn't a coincidence."

"_Us?"_

Knock Out snorted. "I was engaging an Autobot when I was attacked. Do you think a bunch humans could have taken me by surprise if that wasn't the case?"

Breakdown narrowed his optics with hatred. "Which Autobot? Bulkhead?"

"No, the smaller one."

"The scout?"

Knock Out hesitated whilst he put the plate under his microscope. "Ahem, no… The femme, actually."

The mockery displayed on Breakdown's faceplates was unmistakable. "And she gave you problems? A girl?"

"I never said she gave me problems!" Knock Out spat, turning to face his partner. "I would say it was more like a tie… but then the humans arrived. And for your information, Breakdown, that… _girl_ knows how to defend herself."

"Whatever you say," Breakdown said, still smirking. "I have no problems with the Autobots sending their women to fight their battles, you know. They are fast, but they break easier. But to actually let them have the upper hand in a real fight… Well, let's just say that I don't know what is more humiliating, being injured by humans or having your aft kicked by a girl."

Very few times had Knock Out's anger increased so quickly. "And what makes you think that she, I quote, kicked my aft?"

Breakdown grabbed Knock Out by the chin and turned his face aside. This time, the movement was rather delicate.

"Either that," Breakdown said, "or you're becoming a masochist and you're starting to use your prod on yourself."

Knock Out freed himself from his friend's grip. "Three jokes in a round… I'm amazed. It must be your own personal record."

Breakdown was close to chuckling. "And I can keep going, if you like it so much."

"Save it. I've had enough humiliation for one night. As for the scorch marks that you noticed so accurately, your initial supposition is correct. Yes, they were made by my Energon prod. And no, I didn't make them myself. If further information is required, I'll see to write you a detailed report."

Breakdown stayed silent for a moment before erasing his small smirk. "You're not in the best mood tonight."

"And you finally noticed."

Breakdown shook his head and grabbed his partner by the neck, dragging him back to the empty repair berth.

"It wouldn't kill you to be gentler," Knock Out complained, struggling somewhat. "Besides, next time you could ask for my opinion. I still have to analyze that sample."

"The microscope will do it for you," Breakdown said, placing his best friend in the whole Universe on the berth as if he were a piece of machinery. "I'll patch you up in the meantime."

Knock Out sighed and gave up. His appearance, after all, would always be his top priority. "All right… just make sure to clean up that red stuff from my circuits before you start. And keep the monitor on all the time; I won't let you replace a single circuit without my guidance. I don't want you to mess with my systems like you did last time you played the doctor."

Breakdown laughed. Even though it sounded more like a snort, Knock Out knew better. That was another gesture that Breakdown allowed himself to do only in the presence of his best and only friend.

Knock Out sighed as he looked at the monitor that already displayed the damage on his shoulder, preparing himself to endure one uncomfortable repair session that he definitely would have never scheduled. At least it would be Breakdown performing the repairs, perhaps not the best assistant a medic could have but definitely the one bot he trusted.

When Breakdown disabled his pain receptors, Knock Out was able to think about something other than his own suffering. Like the thing that the humans had shot him with, for example. That attack hadn't been random and he had to find the purpose behind it. Hopefully the analysis of the sample would provide some light.

Distracted with those thoughts, it was twice as annoying that suddenly, without any kind of announcement, the image of the Autobot female popped out into his mind. Knock Out frowned and immediately disregarded it. After that, he did his best to focus on the screen beside him, which displayed the repairs that Breakdown was already performing on his shoulder.

But, as that unnerving thing called imperfection proved, his best was not enough, and the unwelcome visitor left a stubborn shadow that refused to leave.

* * *

><p>"Arcee, I needed that!"<p>

With Bulkhead or even Bumblebee as the first word, the phrase would have sounded quite natural, but Arcee related with senseless destruction was so bizarre than even Jack and Raf stopped frantically pushing the buttons of their remote controls, which resulted in the destruction of Rafael's yellow car on the screen.

Arcee blinked, staring with confusion at the marred piece of metal in her hand. "I… am sorry," she said, embarrassed, as she handled the synchro-laser back to Ratchet, who stared at his shattered tool with a frown. "I didn't realize what I was doing."

"You have been very distracted since you returned from your surveillance mission," Ratchet growled as he placed the synchro-laser on a workbench. "You shouldn't let what happened affect you that much."

Arcee frowned, definitely not appreciating Ratchet's abilities to read through the stillness of her face plates. But that wasn't the thing that disturbed her; it was the fact that Ratchet was right. She was disturbed, and not just slightly. Her encounter with the Decepticon Knock Out had brought a wave of discomfort that refused to leave her mental processor.

"I know," she said ill-humoredly, annoyed because the intense fragrance of perfumed wax and oil from the Decepticon's chassis kept tingling her olfactory sensors.

"You were fortunate returning unharmed from an encounter with a Decepticon mercenary and a human organization of which the level of danger is yet to be determined. You will catch them all some other day."

The last words had been said with something related to sympathy, the biggest honour Ratchet would concede to anybody and the living proof that she was in the reduced list of robots that the Autobot medic actually liked. Arcee smiled at him in return, appreciating the support of a colleague that was much more than that.

"Besides," Ratchet continued, returning his attention to the synchro-laser he was already repairing, "your report of the events clearly indicates that you acted following the Autobot code. I don't think Optimus will have anything to reproach you for once he returns from his reconnaissance mission with Bulkhead and Bumblebee."

Arcee frowned. That was true, although it was also true that she hadn't included in her report anything regarding the intoxicating smell of a certain fatuous, unnerving, arrogant, _good looking _Decepticon…

"Blast," she said in low voice before addressing Ratchet again. "I'll be in the training room. Please comm me when Optimus returns. I want to inform him personally about what happened."

"You got it," Ratchet replied with very little enthusiasm.

* * *

><p>Jack stood up from the couch the moment Arcee left the room. He jumped the railing and agilely landed on the metal floor beneath, making a run toward the big tunnel in which Arcee had already disappeared.<p>

"Arcee!" he caught up with her at the middle of the tunnel. She turned around to face him, although he was sure that she had heard his footsteps before he called her.

Jack stopped and leaned over a little, trying to catch his breath. "Are… are you okay?"

Arcee didn't seem to react to his question, but Jack knew better. He had learned to read behind the seriousness of her face, even better than any of her Cybertronian comrades.

"Perfectly fine," she replied, somewhat hurried.

When a girl said that she was fine when she had so much conflict splattered over her face, it was _obvious_ that she was lying. When said girl happened to be the best friend Jack Darby had ever had in his entire life… well, what was bigger than obvious?

That didn't make the situation easier, though. "Forgive me for insisting," Jack said uneasily. "It's just that it seems like something's troubling you."

Arcee rubbed her right hand slightly. Perhaps she was nervous? "I'm concerned about this human group, Jack. We don't know anything about them, only the fact that they can actually hurt us."

That sounded pretty convincing, but for some reason Jack didn't entirely buy it. Maybe he wasn't an expert on girls, but he knew what he needed to know about that metallic girl in particular.

"That said, you should return to your game," Arcee said, straightening up. "I'll let you know if I need your help with the battle holograms during my training."

Okay, it wasn't that Arcee was being curt with him, but Jack knew that feeling. It had happened all the times in which she had been overprotective with him. Also there, it had been a matter of trust.

"Still, I think that—" Jack interrupted his words when he saw his friend taking hold of her hand with a small gesture that indicated pain. "Arcee, are you alright? Why didn't you have Ratchet take a look at that?"

"It's nothing," Arcee said, casting an indifferent look at her right hand, which was slightly sparking from a thin gash. "Just a scratch."

"But…"

Arcee softened her expression. "Jack, I'm fine. I appreciate your concern but there's no reason to be worried. If something troubles me, I'll make sure to let you know. We already talked about all this, remember?"

Yeah, that was true. They had talked about not keeping secrets and trusting in each other, but Jack was still uneasy. Right before his eyes, there was a side he had never seen in Arcee, one that reminded him that the big difference between himself and his best friend was not only a matter of race, but gender.

He couldn't go further in his thoughts, though, as a groan of pain and Arcee falling on one knee caught all his attention.

"Arcee!" he cried. When Arcee didn't respond but collapsed on the ground, Jack ran towards the Control Room, calling Ratchet with all the strength of his vocal chords.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>The line 'beautifully dangerous' was taken from Glue Stick Gary's 'Plaything', in which Knock Out says that he is 'dangerously beautiful'. I liked that line so much that I couldn't resist giving it a little wink here. Hope you liked my little homage to your fic, Gary!<em>

_I'm sure you noticed how Breakdown bit his tongue during this chapter. Remember, this story happens before 'Operation: Breakdown' and 'Metallic attraction', so he had the right to say what he did regarding femmes and humans. I think right now he would think different on both accounts._

_The '(insert Autobot name here), I needed that!' line became an instant favorite of mine since the first moment Ratchet said it, so I had to include it here. Ratchet was the character that made me realize just how amazing TFP was going to be, and how much depth it would give to the characters - finally!, unlike a certain nonsense that is still in the wide screen these days… brrrr._

_Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. I have next one pretty much figured out, so expect a faster update this time. Your reviews are very much appreciated :o)_


	3. There's a bug in my fuel

_I had the intention of posting this chapter sooner, but I got distracted with some of my other fics. I'm very sorry for the delay, but I hope this chapter will compensate the waiting._

_Many thanks to iratepirate for beta reading – she said that she didn't find many typos, yay! And many thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing. _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**There's a bug in my fuel**

"_Arcee?"_

An instinctive, almost primeval feeling of anxiety took over as Arcee's systems rebooted and she realized that she was in a horizontal position. Her alarms awakened, even before her consciousness. She had a natural rejection towards being defenseless, so much that she even recharged in a chair instead of a berth, and with her battle computer online. She wasn't paranoid or a lost cause of distrust, as some of her fellow Autobots liked to believe, but war had been her first memory and chances were high that it would also be her last.

"_Arcee…"_

She didn't get up, but jumped from the repair berth and landed in a fighting stance. She wasn't welcomed by enemy fire, though, but by a rain of fallen tools and a table that ended up crashing against a nearby console.

It was only then that Arcee realized that she knew the voice that had been calling her. It was Jack's. And Jack himself was standing before her, crouching with his arms above his head, which had been very close to getting hit by the table as Arcee realized – and lamented – immediately.

The voice that followed, however, wasn't as sympathetic as Jack had been when saying her name.

"Arcee-e…!"

She turned to her right and faced the scowl on Ratchet's face. "You needed that, I know," she said curtly but apologetically, starting to pick up the scattered tools. "I'm sorry, Ratchet. I thought I was somewhere else."

"What happened back there? You really scared us," Jack said. Normally Jack was a very composed young human, but Arcee knew him well enough to notice when he was worried.

"I'll tell you what happened," Ratchet replied in her place, his slight grimace never leaving his face. "Arcee had a mild system failure. As for what caused such failure, we have two suspects: the damage that Arcee took during her fight with the Decepticon Knock Out – damage that she stubbornly underestimated – and _this."_

Ratchet held his second suspect between his thumb and index finger, captive inside a small crystal tube.

"What is that, Ratchet?" Raf asked him, glancing intrigued at the perfect metallic sphere inside the crystal.

Ratchet brought the tube to his face and narrowed his eyes at it. _"These_ are nanomites," he said, shaking his hand. Immediately, the former sphere broke and divided itself in countless miniature pieces. "They entered Arcee's systems through the injury on her hand – which she also forgot to mention. As for their purpose, I still have to find out." He lowered the tube and addressed Arcee again. "Are you sure that Knock Out didn't attack you with anything besides his Energon prod?"

"Certain," Arcee replied immediately. If she was disturbed by the small robotic organisms that had been found inside her, she didn't let it show. "The nanomites must have come from the device that the humans shot at the Decepticon. I remember feeling a sting in my hand after I removed it from him."

"Now that's a good deed that may not reward you, not positively at least," Ratchet said as he glanced at the tube, in which the nanomites had formed a sphere again. "So far I've managed to contain the infestation of your systems with a mild electromagnetic field, but I can't give you any diagnostic regarding the nanomites' function before performing a complete analysis on this sample."

"So there are more inside of me?" Arcee frowned, not afraid of the bad news she was requesting. "How many?"

"Impossible to calculate. As I told you, I can't give you any more information because I don't have it myself. All I can tell you at this stage is that they seem to reproduce very fast."

"Can't you just remove them?"

"Not if I want you to remain functional. I managed to extract this little sample from the wound on your hand, but the nanomites that spread through your systems are firmly attached to your circuits. I can't attempt anything without jeopardizing you."

"Scrap," Arcee spat, clenching her fists.

"I already sent a message to Optimus about the situation, and agent Fowler will have to be notified too. Since the ones who did this are humans, it belongs to his jurisdiction as well."

Arcee tensed, looking at Ratchet almost pleadingly; she hated being the center of the attention, even less the carrier of problems. "Is all that really necessary? You said it yourself, Ratchet, all it took was a mild electromagnetic field to contain the nanomites. There's no need to make the situation bigger than it already is."

"The situation is as big as our ignorance, Arcee," Ratchet retorted, his voice getting rougher. "We don't know what those humans attacked you with, but considering what they did during their first appearance, it's certainly nothing good."

Arcee muttered another 'scrap' before folding her arms across her chest.

"It's not that bad, Arcee," Jack said, smiling at her. "The infestation is contained, as Ratchet said, and I'm sure he will find a way to get rid of those little pests. You just have to be patient."

Patience… the one thing she had never achieved.

"In the meantime, I'm sure you will look beautiful with this," Raf said, holding a golden metallic ring and extending it to her.

"What is this?" Arcee took it with a frown.

"A small EMP generator," Ratchet said. "Put it around your wrist. It will keep you protected from the nanomites."

Arcee's frown increased. "Weapons must be the only ornament of a soldier."

Ratchet turned his back at her and walked towards his computer, his attention apparently focused on the crystal tube. "Well, if you don't want to use it you are welcome to stay on the repair berth for as long as it takes me to analyze this sample… There are some data pads over there if you get bored and want to read."

It wasn't a surprise to anyone when Arcee didn't say anything else and secured the bracelet-like thing around her wrist.

"It looks good on you, Arcee," Jack said, noticing how embarrassed his friend was.

Arcee didn't have time to compute how to react to the compliment, another absence in her life, because the Ground Bridge portal opened and three figures appeared under its threshold.

"Scrap," she said, preparing herself for more embarrassing moments that definitely had nothing to do with a soldier's life.

* * *

><p>A red light partially illuminated Knock Out's face, dividing his white face in two exact halves. His perfect features deformed slightly with a frown when the word 'unknown' reproduced on the screen like a plague of Scraplets.<p>

"_Scheisse!" _he cursed, hitting the console of the computer with one fist.

"Giving up to fury, Knock Out?" a voice said behind him. "May I know the reason that caused you to react in such an unusual way?"

Knock Out startled and turned around, pushing a random button on the computer and making the displayed data disappear.

"Ah, Commander Starscream… I would really appreciate it if you avoided surprising me like that."

Starscream smirked and looked at the dark screen. "If I did that, I wouldn't get to know what my loyal troops are up to during their spare time, don't you agree? Which leads me to the next question. What are you doing here, Knock Out? You're a little too far from your laboratory, are you not?"

Knock Out relaxed, or at least he tried to. "As you said, Commander, I'm off duty and I have no obligation to inform you about my activities… But if you insist, I'll be happy to comply with your request and, at the same time, very sorry to disappoint you. I was just examining a sample from an organic substance, nothing that a high ranked official such as yourself could consider of importance."

Starscream narrowed his optics. "What kind of substance?"

"That's what I was intending to find out before your arrival. So far its composition remains unknown; I would need more time and resources to obtain a more satisfactory result, but considering the insignificance of the matter I'm inclined to disregard it."

Starscream turned his suspicious gaze from the computer to Knock Out's face. "And what interest could you possibly have in a terrestrial substance?"

"You offend me, Starscream," Knock Out snorted, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm a scientist."

"Amongst many other things, yes… I guess we could say you are one," Starscream hissed, carefully scrutinizing the face before him. "But you are the kind of scientist that spends more time in pleasure houses and underground races than doing his practice. I ask you again: what's your interest in that substance you were analyzing?"

Knock Out smirked and unfolded his arms, leaning one hand on his waist. "Well, thank you Commander, in case you were trying to flatter me. Indeed I won't deny that there are certain… hobbies that I enjoy occupying my time with, but you should know that my undying allegiance to the Decepticon Empire is my only priority."

"Ah, Knock Out," Starscream said, shaking his head. "I would have expected better from you concerning hypocrisy… As for your priorities, we both know that your finish comes first and your _hobbies_ second. I wouldn't know where to place your so called loyalty, considering that your recent performance hasn't been as satisfactory as it could have been."

"Apologies for not extinguishing Lord Megatron's spark and sending you a post card about the happy moment," Knock Out said, his face hardening. "If you want it done so much, you should do it yourself."

"I'm the only one you will address as Lord!" Starscream yelled. "What did I gain by placing a supposed ally of mine in such an advantageous position? Megatron stills function!"

"Which is why he's still the only one entitled to call himself Lord," Knock Out said calmly, recovering his smirk. "When he wakes up, of course."

Starscream snorted, but lowered his tone. "I see you have no interest in becoming my Second in Command."

"The thing in which I'm definitely not interested is in becoming a non functional corpse. Have you ever noticed, _Lord _Starscream, how gray and horribly unpolished dead mechs look?"

"Knock Out, I'm warning you…"

"Megatron is not termination material, period," the doctor said in low voice. "You know that better than anyone. Get Soundwave off my back and I may deliver you what you want, but don't ask me for miracles if you're not willing to stain your hands a bit."

Starscream scowled, finding himself out of words, but that only reminded him of his original inquiry. "You didn't answer my question, Knock Out."

"I recall you asked more than one."

Starscream shoved Knock Out aside and pushed a series of buttons on the console. The screen illuminated again, including the Decepticon Second in Command within its red bright.

"What is this?" he asked, his tone making clear that he had run out of patience.

"As I said, a sample… with an unknown composition, as you can see. Nothing that could interest his Highness, _Lord _Starscream."

Starscream glared at Knock Out. "But certainly something that did interest you. I want to know why."

Knock Out leaned casually on the console and folded his arms. "No offense, _Herr Kommandant, _but when was the last time you had your paranoid processor checked up? It's not a good idea to overlook those things… especially when having a doctor of my caliber in your own base."

"Is this substance related to your little skirmish with that Autobot female and the human organization called MECH?"

That not only managed to unfold Knock Out's arms, but to widen his optics in astonishment also. "But how did you—?"

"Soundwave is not the only one who has extra sets of optics, Knock Out," Starscream almost purred. "Now that we are done playing, you may want to start telling the truth, like for example why the slag you didn't notify me about what happened tonight!"

"I…" Knock Out sighed. "I didn't think it was important. The encounter with the female Autobot was purely casual."

"Unlike your little meeting with those humans? I would say they targeted you."

"Or the Autobot."

"We do not know that for certain. I had a reason to forbid you from exposing yourself in those stupid races you love. I even remember giving you a certain lesson concerning your disobedience, and yet you defied me _again!"_

Knock Out flinched when Starscream's long, sharp talon grazed his grill. "And your lesson was properly delivered, Commander, make no mistake about that," he said, stepping back. "I was just taking a ride when I bumped into that race… and the Autobot. Did I also mention that I was off duty when I happened to take that ride?"

Starscream's brows almost melted with his optics as he scrutinized the doctor's face, looking for traces of lies that he certainly was expecting to find. "So you say that the humans attacked the Autobot with some kind of bacteriological weapon… Care to explain to me why you didn't bring me her head? I suppose she was weakened, maybe even defenseless, after being attacked, which turned her into the perfect rival according to your standards."

"Or yours, Starscream, as I seem to recall that you're the one who prefers enemies who are not exactly in the position to fight back…" Knock Out chucked slightly, but stopped when he realized that Starscream was not laughing. "I would have had no problem in terminating the Autobot, indeed, if I hadn't been under attack as well. These humans are not ordinary humans; they can hurt us. If you would turn your extra sets of optics in the right direction, you may have obtained a valuable addition to our data base."

Starscream looked from Knock Out's optics to the screen. "So what is this thing? Some kind of virus?"

"All traces indicate so, although unfortunately I can't perform further tests because the sample I collected is not large enough… I'd say this substance was the carrier of something else."

"Something we could use against the Autobots," Starscream said, caressing his chin.

"But of course. Why else would I bother researching some human manufactured virus?"

Starscream made a groan-like sound before staring at Knock Out again. "All right, you have my authorization to continue this research of yours. Are you certain that this substance didn't make contact with your inner circuitry at any time?"

Knock Out laughed, this time openly. "Well, what do you think?" he said, extending his arms and looking proudly at himself. "Of course I got some scratches for fighting the Autobot and the humans, but Breakdown already took care of them. So don't you worry, _Herr Kommandant, _your Second in Command is pretty much unscathed and as handsome as always. Go back and recharge tranquilly. I'll get back to you when I have something new to report, and trust me, I plan for that to happen very soon."

Starscream didn't seem convinced, but finally gave Knock Out the welcomed sight of his back turning to him. "You do that, Knock Out, unless you want me to carry out my own investigation, that is…"

Knock Out's smile disappeared as soon as Starscream left. That had been close, too close for his taste. He didn't know what Starscream would do if he knew that he had been exposed to the unknown virus… And he suspected that his Commander actually knew, which urged him to find a solution even sooner than he had expected.

Knock Out cursed in German again, although this time he did it only inside his head. He had to find the missing information on the virus and for that he would have to return to the place of the attack, not a good idea considering that the humans most likely had secured it…

There was also the female Autobot factor. Of course, he had to consider the possibility of the slut getting infected too. She had, after all, removed the spike that had been shot into his shoulder to inject the virus… It was unnerving to think that what should have been one exciting night of racing was turning so quickly into a nightmare.

He was about to curse again when a sharp pain in his midsection made him bend over himself. Knock Out got to one knee and grimaced, unable to contain the shivering of his body.

"B-Breakdown…" he said, failing in trying to activate his comm link. More than pain, it was fear that made him narrow his optics. He had made sure that Breakdown removed all the slagging red substance from his circuitry…

Or not?

* * *

><p>"It's definitely a virus," Ratchet said, promptly collating the data displayed on the screen.<p>

"Of what kind?" Optimus Prime asked.

"I would be happy to respond, if I knew. What we have here is just half of the information. These nanomites didn't come alone."

Arcee switched her weight from one leg to the other, visibly uncomfortable. It wasn't a soldier's labour to add problems to an already troubled army, even less the kind of problems related to an unknown virus which could infest the whole team.

Bumblebee chirped something.

"No, Bumblebee, it's not contagious," Ratchet said. "At least it won't be as long as we keep it contained."

Arcee gave a disdainful look to her 'bracelet'. "Maybe I should be isolated. I don't want to expose any of you to the virus."

"There's no need to do that, Arcee," Optimus said. "Ratchet already said it can be contained with the EMP generator you are carrying."

"Which matches great with your paintjob, by the way," Bulkhead said, scratching his head. He immediately lowered his gaze when everybody turned to look at him.

"I had something more than mere esthetics in mind when I designed that small EMP generator, Bulkhead," Ratchet said, somewhat offended. "The nanomites can be contained, but there's no way of telling what will happen if they start to mutate."

Optimus frowned. "Have you found any evidence that suggests a probable mutation?"

"Not yet, although their behavior has been rather erratic," Ratchet replied, showing a hologram of the most recent scan he had performed on Arcee's systems. "I can't say exactly what these nanomites would do if they were not contained, but I'd say they are some kind of corrosive agent."

Bumblebee buzzed.

"Not like the Scraplets, Bumblebee. Unlike them, these nanomites are not designed to feed on metal. I talk only hypothetically because I would need to know the composition of the other half of the virus in order to be sure, but I think their main target is the inner circuitry, probably the energy core of a Cybertronian body… This MECH organization is certainly looking for a way to destroy us."

Optimus Prime nodded seriously. "I will have a long talk with agent Fowler about MECH, but for the moment I'm more concerned for Arcee's welfare. Our main priority is to obtain a sample of the missing part of the virus so Ratchet can find a way to eradicate it from her systems."

"Any ideas of where to get it?" Bulkhead asked.

"In the one who was its original target," Arcee said seriously. "Knock Out."

Fortunately for her, nobody noticed the slight tremor on her voice.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>I have next update partially written, so it should be ready soon. Let me know if you liked :o)<em>


	4. Miko's Master Plan

_This chapter means an important step for me. Let me just start by saying that the first Transformers Prime fic I was going to write was entitled "Who killed Miko?" I guess you can figure how much I used to hate her guts. But later, as chapters went by, and specifically after 'Rock Bottom', she started to gain some points and abandoned my TFP hate list, leaving said list with only one name. Now I'm perfectly okay with Miko. She will never be amongst my favorite characters, but I got rid of the instant Mary Sue label I used to give her every time she appeared during the first episodes of the show._

_Anyway, the point I wanted to make here is that the chapter you are about to read is also the first time I get to write Miko. Her first lines were a small torture, but as I kept writing I started to feel a lot more comfortable with her. I hope I managed to keep her in character._

_I also want to thank iratepirate, my dear friend and beta reader, who provided me the much needed inspiration to take this important step. She's not a Miko lover either, but she proved me that yeah, writing her can be done!_

_Okay, sorry for the long and kind of pointless author's notes. I hope you will enjoy this chapter._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

**Miko's Master Plan**

Miko softly tapped her electric guitar amplifier with her right foot one, then two times. Soon she had a rhythm; next thing she realized was that playing her six-string would be a much more enjoyable alternative to waiting quietly with Jack and Raf, as if they were three grounded children, for whatever decision the Autobots reached on Arcee's problem. It was very annoying how a sleepover at the Autobots base, in which she was supposed to show her new tune to Bulkhead, had ended that way, with her guitar in disturbing silence and her big metallic friends way too preoccupied to have fun.

"But why can't we help?" she said, returning to the same train of thought that had been making stops inside her head for the past few minutes. "Arcee is our friend too. I'm sure there must be something we can do for her."

"Optimus doesn't want to put us at risk," Jack said seriously, although Miko knew him enough to realize that he wasn't convinced of his own words. Arcee was his partner. As much as Miko and Raf were worried, it was nothing compared to what Jack was feeling.

Miko looked from Jack to the gathering of Autobots before the main computer. Her attention focused on Arcee. She looked fine, as cool and healthy as always – although Miko didn't know if 'healthy' was a word she could use with robots. She shook her head rapidly; of course it was. Arcee was healthy! There was no way she had some virus inside of her, some nasty, _deadly _virus making its way through her circuits…

"We have to capture Knock Out!" Miko said, punching the palm of her hand with her fist.

"That's what the Autobots are talking about," Raf said, typing something on his computer, "but it's not as easy as it sounds. As far as we know, the Decepticons spend most of their time in their battleship, which is constantly travelling in space and protected by a cloaking device that prevents the Autobots' radars from locating its coordinates—"

"What's that?" Miko asked, interrupting Raf and pointing towards the screen of his notebook.

"The composition of Arcee's virus," the younger boy explained. "Well, of her half, at least. Ratchet allowed me to keep a copy in case I could find some pattern here… but it's no use. Without the other half of the virus, it's impossible to know what it will do and, more importantly, how to eliminate it from Arcee's systems."

Miko raised an eyebrow. Sure, Raf was a computer magician and a small genius in general, but she really doubted that he could find the needle in the haystack that Ratchet hadn't been able to find.

She turned to her right, where Jack remained silent. It wasn't rare to see him that way; it seemed that he only talked when he was sure about what he was going to say. It was weird, not to mention somewhat uncomfortable. Ever since she had met him, Miko truly believed that Jack needed to have more fun, to blow up things a little sometimes.

"Jack, Arcee will be fine," she said. "You don't need to worry so much. She's a tough girl!"

Jack stared at her, and for a moment Miko saw that fire in his eyes that made him look much older than his years. "You didn't see her, Miko. You didn't see her collapsing on the floor. You didn't see her convulsing as those nanomites hurt her."

Miko stepped back, hitting her guitar which was leaning on the wall and almost making it fall. She hadn't seen any of that, indeed. For a moment she felt guilty for taking longer than expected at her dentist appointment…

"I'm sorry," Jack hurried to say, fury disappearing from his eyes. "I guess I'm too upset."

Miko's smile came easily to her face. "We all are, another reason why I don't get why Optimus won't allow us to help… we could come up with something."

Jack didn't say anything. He was generally very obedient in following every direction coming from their metallic friends, but it was obvious that he agreed with her on this one. His bond with Arcee was as strong as it had been immediate. When Miko and Raf were barely starting to get acquainted with their new best friends, Jack and his motorcycle were like the perfect team already.

Miko frowned, her expression full of resolution. "And that's what we will do!" she said, turning to her left. "Raf, didn't you say that the Decepticons spend most of their time on their ship?"

"Uh, yes…" Raf said, raising his glasses, that had slipped down his nose.

"Except when they are up to something here on Earth, right? Like searching for Energon or doing some other evil stuff… _or _when they have some spare time, like this Knock Out guy. He does like racing, doesn't he?"

Jack nodded, and Miko could tell that he had just understood what she had in mind.

"Well, how does he get to know about street racing if it's supposed to be illegal?" she asked. "It's not like it's promoted everywhere."

"I found out about those races because of Vince," Jack said. "But there must be some way of sharing information about the places and dates of the races. Maybe a web site."

Raf's fingers were already moving, and fast. "I'm on it."

"Think about it, guys!" Miko said, excited. "If we get to know where the next underground race will be held, then this Decepticon is already ours! All we have to do is show up and POW! We'll get the bad guy and a cure for Arcee!"

"I think we have more than just knowing where the next race will take place," Raf said, with a satisfied smile on his face.

Jack and Miko gathered around him. The red, flashy banner stood out for attention on the black screen.

"How do you know this is the right place, Raf?" Jack asked. "There must be hundreds of sites like this on the web."

The black screen disappeared and was replaced by a white page filled with stats and commands that Miko did not recognize. Raf sailed through them with amazing ease. "Maybe because this one has one visitor whose IP is untraceable… as untraceable as only a visitor from outer space could be."

"And whose nickname happens to be HandsomeRedDevil," Jack said, grinning. "I think we found him, guys."

"Cool!" Miko jumped, landing only to give Raf a quick but enthusiastic hug. "Well done, whiz kid, I knew you could do it! Now how do we get to him? Has he left some nasty evil Decepticon messages in the forum?"

Raf blushed, his glasses sliding once again down his nose. "Eh… no. He's not an active member. He seems to have the account only to get informed about the races. According to the statistics, he's a registered member, but he has zero visits to the web site."

Miko sat again beside Raf. "But he must receive an update on the new races, right? Like in my favorite anime forum. You receive an update on all the new messages posted."

"Yes. He is subscribed to the mailing list."

"Raf, could you hack this forum and send a message that only Knock Out would receive?" Jack asked, suddenly infected with Miko's enthusiasm.

Raf nodded. "I could do it right now."

"Awesome!" Miko said, punching the palm of her hand again. "Tell him this: Hey Decepticon scum, we have a race for you if you have the guts. Remember to roll up your sleeves because we are going to need a blood sample."

Jack smiled. "I think luring him without exposing who we are would work better. But we will need to ask Optimus first. It's not like we can capture Knock Out by ourselves."

"We could, if Bulkhead helps us. Just picture it, guys: us returning with that Decepticon in chains, the crowd cheering our names… we would be heroes!"

Jack laughed candidly. "I still think that we should tell Optimus," he said, holding Miko by the shoulders. "Thank you, Miko. You are a genius! We will give Knock Out a challenge he won't be able to resist, and we will get the cure for Arcee!"

The blush on Miko's face took her by surprise, blanking her restless mind for once in her life. But she didn't have time to rationalize the feeling, as Jack was already jumping over the handrail and making his way to the Autobots.

* * *

><p>"Am I going to die, doctor?"<p>

Breakdown frowned. He was very acquainted with Knock Out's sarcasm, but it could be annoying when it was so sour and, especially, when it targeted him.

"I'm no doctor; you are," he replied harshly.

"That's how it was last time I checked," Knock Out said with a voice that signaled the increase of his irritation. He tried to get up from the big boulder aside the road but Breakdown returned him to a sitting position with a rough, yet friendly, shove.

"Oh, for Unicron's sake, Breakdown!" Knock Out snapped, finally losing it. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm fine?"

"You didn't seem fine earlier when I found you shivering like a protoform out of his hatch," Breakdown said between gritted dental plates, pondering probable courses of action, such as embedding his friend into the rock, or even better, making him shut off with a good jab to the jaw. If Knock Out hadn't been particularly allergic to dents on his face, Breakdown would have gone for the second option.

"I was _not_ shivering!" Knock Out stated, but not even he could hold to his tantrum forever. He finally sighed and rested his elbows on his knees and his chin on one fist. "All right, maybe I was slightly disorientated…"

"Disorientated? You had half of your fraggin' body paralyzed, and the other half was as hot as a fraggin' nuclear reactor!"

Knock Out made a disdainful gesture with his hand and looked at the place on his forearm where the tubes had been attached. "A condition that was promptly reversed thanks to my expertise… and your assistance of course. All I needed was to get rid of the extra energy. Somehow that human virus managed to stop the flow of my fuel lines and obstructed them."

"But what the frag is that red slime?" Breakdown said, turning his gaze to the ground again and doing his best to find something within the interminable carpet of pebbles and dust.

Knock Out made good use of his friend's distraction and got up from the filthy boulder. "I have it clear that it was created to damage cybernetic organisms, but I don't know exactly how. My initial analysis indicates that I was affected by only half of the virus."

Breakdown couldn't help sneering as he kept analyzing the deserted road. "It's like I always tell you, Knock Out. You are a lucky slagger."

"Even if you consider this funny, it actually could have been much worse. This substance was carrying something else, perhaps some agent designed to corrode my energy core, I'm not sure yet… I need to find a sample of that agent to be certain."

"And then Starscream will use it against the Autobots, or at least that's what you said he told you."

"Who cares about Starscream or the Autobots?" Knock Out spat. "I'm the one carrying the accursed virus!"

Breakdown turned to stare at him, realizing that Knock Out had not only gotten up, but was standing beside him.

"Um, you don't… think this virus is contagious, do you?" he said, stepping back, his feet pulverizing the pebbles beneath.

"Can you quit your paranoia, Breakdown? I thought you had overcome that part of your personality component vorns ago," Knock Out retorted, frowning. "For your information, I'm not contagious – at least not at this stage of the infection. As I told you before, this substance is merely the carrier of something unknown. Aside from the obstruction in my fuel lines, my systems overheating and the partial paralysis that the obstruction caused, I'm perfectly fine."

This time Breakdown laughed openly. "As I said before, you are one lucky slagger."

For a moment it looked like Knock Out was going to resort to the good ole jab to the jaw, but fist fights were not really his style, not to mention that his rival was considerably stronger than him and wouldn't allow their friendship to make him go easy. "Mph, whatever… What matters is that I have managed to temporally control the action of this substance in my systems, but I still need to eliminate it. And for that, I will need the other half of the virus. I can't come up with a cure unless I find that infamous agent!"

"Well, I don't think we'll find anything here. All that my scanners can detect is dust, filth, and more dust. Whatever those humans shot at you left no trace here, that's for sure."

Knock Out's much more advanced scanners covered the area surrounding the place of the attack, but their search was equally ineffective. "It can't be. They must have left something behind. The tiniest sample would work…"

Breakdown decided promptly that searching for laboratory samples was not his thing. "Why don't we just ram into those humans' base and snatch the information out of their little protoplasmic brains?"

"What a brilliant idea! I wonder why I didn't think of that myself," Knock Out said, raising his arms in exasperation. "Oh, wait, that may be because: 1) I don't know the location of the humans nest, and 2) they are numerous and heavily armed. I don't think that a frontal attack would be the best course of action."

"I would shoot myself the day a human or a thousand humans managed to best me."

"I would have liked to see you in my situation, Breakdown. Maybe you wouldn't— ugh…"

Breakdown couldn't repress the frown of concern when he saw his friend grimacing in pain. "What's wrong? Wait, you're not getting all weird again, are you?" If Knock Out's fuel lines got stuck again, there was no way Breakdown could help him, not when they were so far away from the Repair Bay. Maybe it was time to request a portal to the Nemesis…

"Don't," Knock Out hissed, reading his thoughts. "Don't request the bridge portal just yet. My core temperature is rising, but not at an alarming rate."

"That's how it started last time, remember? You told me that you started to overheat and then your fuel lines got stuck."

"Which means that all I need to do is burn some unnecessary energy and I'll be all right, but this time I would prefer to do it in a more traditional way than having it sucked up by a tangle of tubes," Knock Out said, transforming to his alt mode and making his engine roar.

"Wait!" Breakdown yelled, but Knock Out was already rolling out. Breakdown transformed as well, cursing his best friend with the nastier swearwords he could come up with.

He continued cursing when it was more than clear that as much as he forced his motor he would never be able to catch up with Knock Out. The medic had always been cunning and fast, qualities that had motivated him to adopt the shape of a sports car when the moment to choose a terrestrial alt mode had come. Breakdown, also keen on ground forms, would have liked something faster than his armored van mode, but his heavier frame hadn't given him many choices.

"Slow down, fraggit!" he said through his comm link. "I can't even see you."

"_That's the idea, _meine freund", came the response. _"I hope you will find my dust agreeable."_

"This is not funny, slagger!" Breakdown snapped, wondering how shiny Knock Out would end up if he decided to address him with missiles instead of words. "Stop this fraggin' instant!"

Knock Out's arrogant laughter could be heard. _"I tell you what. Beat me and I'll stop."_

"Beat you…? What is this? A race?"

"_You can call it that, if you want. I prefer to see it as a simple way to keep my fuel lines flowing."_

"Why don't you overload like any other normal robot would do and get over with it?" Breakdown growled. He had been asked many times how the frag he was able to put up with Knock Out. Sometimes he asked himself the same question.

The blue van reached 160 miles per hour but he still didn't get any visual on his partner. The speed, however, managed to calm him down. He was heavy and definitely not fit for racing, but still he appreciated its beauty. Speed felt good, almost as good as pounding a rival to junk. Had he been just a little bit lighter, he would have joined Knock Out in his favorite hobby.

"Okay… so where's the finish line?" he commed, resigned.

Knock Out didn't answer, and for some minutes all that Breakdown could hear was the distant roar of his friend's motor as the cloud of dust soiled his blue paintjob. Breakdown wasn't particularly careful about his appearance, so he didn't give a frag. He was more concerned about Knock Out. He hadn't seen him so down in… well, ages. Thinking about it, Breakdown had _never_ seen his friend down to begin with.

When the familiar rear bumper came into his sight, Breakdown allowed himself to have hopes regarding the outcome of the race. Maybe he would be able to come up with a decent second place, after all… But when the bumper came closer, he realized that he was not catching up with Knock Out. The medic had simply decided to slow down.

He finally made a stop, his racing desires gone as suddenly as they had ignited. Breakdown stopped as well and transformed, following the example of his friend, who was staring down the lonely road before him with a blank expression on his face.

"So…" Breakdown said carefully, "we didn't find anything resembling the unknown half of the virus at the place where you were attacked. What now?"

It seemed that Knock Out hadn't heard him, hadn't even noticed his presence, but he responded eventually. "Well, there's actually another possibility… The Autobot female. She removed the vessel containing the virus from my shoulder. She may have got infected too."

"How? You said that spike plunged into your frame, not hers."

"Yes, but my fuel lines were injected only with the red slime, not with the agent that it must have been carrying. The agent itself could have entered the Autobot's systems when she touched me."

"Let me see if I get this straight. You actually mean that you got one half of the virus and the femme got the other?" Breakdown burst into laughter. "Primus frag it, Knock Out! This is so fraggin' romantic, if you ask me!"

That cost him Knock Out's best glare of hate. "Well, I did not ask you, so spare me from your idiotic comments. If I share this thing with the Autobot slut, it means that I will need access to her systems in order to create an antivirus."

"And how are you going to achieve that? Are you going to ask her on a date?" Slag, it was too funny… Picturing Knock Out and the Autobot together was so fragging amusing.

"You don't want to anger me, Breakdown. Consider yourself warned."

It wasn't common to see Knock Out driven to his limits, but Breakdown had known him long enough to realize that he was on the way to getting there. Had it been anybody else, he would have kept up his job of harassing and even added some physical violence to make it tastier, but Knock Out was not only his partner but his friend, the one and only name that would never be part of his pounding-to-death list. "Alright, warning taken… What are you going to do, then?"

"Capture the female, obviously."

Breakdown smirked lecherously. "Can I have her, once you are done with her? I like her paintjob… and I think she's kind of attractive, in a very weak, Autobot way of course."

"I was planning on dismembering her once I finished extracting the samples I need, but I guess you can have her instead," Knock Out snorted. "She's not completely disgusting to the sight, but still, she's not my type."

"'Course not", Breakdown said, increasing his malicious smirk. "It's not like this Autobot fits in with the easy, perverted pleasure femmebots you like to hang out with."

Knock Out didn't seem to find his comment funny, he didn't even seem to have heard it at all. Ever since he had mentioned the Autobot female, Knock Out's features had gotten noticeably serious, deprived of the disdain that the medic showed every time he talked about the Autobots.

"Are you okay?" Breakdown asked, leaving mockery aside.

Knock Out looked upwards and fixated his gaze on the full moon above them. "No, Breakdown, I'm not okay… I have an unknown virus corroding me from inside. How could I be okay?"

It was then when Breakdown understood that his friend had had much more than energy to burn during his short, but furious race. More than the virus, he was invaded by frustration. Knock Out had always been the vivid image of self-confidence, but now he was being seriously threatened by something and he didn't even know what it was. More than his looks, more than his finish, life was the one thing that Knock Out wouldn't be able to restore if things got ugly. Danger was closing its circle around him. The virus was not the only enemy; there was no way that Starscream would allow an infected mech to remain in the base… A cold shiver ran through Breakdown's struts.

"Uh, listen…"

"Request a bridge portal," Knock Out said, interrupting him.

That made Breakdown felt relieved, at least a bit. "Sounds fine to me. You will feel better if you recharge on this. You'll wake up with a clearer mind. Then we can get to this Autobot femme issue again—"

"The portal is for you, Breakdown. I don't want to return yet. I have a lot to think about."

Breakdown looked around him. "I can understand that, but out _here?"_ As much as he enjoyed driving, Earth was not a good place for it. It was too filthy, filled with dust and weak creatures.

"If you can recall a proper place in the Nemesis where I can lay rubber, please let me know about it."

Knock Out had a point, but that didn't ease Breakdown's concern. "Um… but what if you start to glitch again?"

Knock Out folded his arms across his chest. "Who is the physician, Breakdown, you or I?" he asked, looking offended. "Nothing will happen to me, so stop acting as if you were my fragging maker. With the amount of energy I just released, I don't think I will suffer any of these attacks anytime soon."

Breakdown shrugged his shoulders. Knock Out sounded very convincing, not to mention that Breakdown was starting to get tired of being his best friend's nanny bot. He was about to request a portal, already considering the possibility of challenging his old pal Miner unit 113-B to a game of Cyberpoker, when Knock Out's communicator beeped once.

"What's that?" Breakdown asked. "Are you receiving a comm?"

Knock Out clicked a concealed button on his helm. "No…" he said dismissively. "Just a notification…"

"What kind of notification?"

Knock Out didn't reply immediately. He narrowed his optics and seemed to ponder whatever data he was receiving.

"Change of plans, Breakdown. I'm coming back to the Nemesis with you."

"Good. It was about time that your processor computed some logic here… But who managed to change your mind? Did Starscream just comm you?" Breakdown's face got wary. "Is Lord Megatron online again?"

Much to Breakdown's surprise, Knock Out smirked, a good change from his previous mood. "No, no… as I told you, I just received a notification."

"What kind of notification? Don't make me repeat it a third time!"

Breakdown's little outburst didn't disturb Knock Out. It was quite the opposite, as the medic put one hand on his hip and returned to his usual self. "Apologies, Breakdown. I accept I have been quite unpleasant company tonight, of the slaghole kind, actually. But rest assured that the clouds over my processor have just vanished. You are right, _meine freund_. A good night of recharge is precisely what I need in order to figure out my next step. Saving energy is not exactly an issue for me right now, but I will definitely need my fuel lines filled for tomorrow night."

Breakdown frowned. "What happens tomorrow night?"

"Nothing that won't come in handy. You can call it relaxation if you like." Knock Out smirked; his face looked extremely juvenile at that moment.

"Wait… are you racing again? Frag, Knock Out! I thought you understood the gravity of your condition and all you can think about is racing!"

Knock Out put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Is there something better, I ask you? But no, _mein freund_, it's not only about racing."

Breakdown's tacit question was immediately answered.

"This time it's all about winning."

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>There was a blink to G1 Breakdown in this chapter. If you got it, you'll receive a lifetime supply of Energon cookies. <em>

_And speaking of the now muscular guy, I hope you noticed that, once again, he bit his tongue when he said something about humans… Ah poor Breaks, he was meant to learn the hard way. _

_I know many of you are looking forward to it, so prepare your safety belts because Arcee and Knock Out will meet again next chapter, which will be here very soon. Many thanks for your reviews and support; you guys are a wonderful group of readers. Please let me know if you liked this. _


	5. Don't let the bed bugs bite

_I will start this chapter by slapping my head. I wasn't planning to take two months to update this story, really… but it happened before I realized it. I had most of this chapter written ages ago, but I got too busy with a couple of my other stories and neglected this one a bit. So let me add an apology now that I slapped my head. _

_I hope that both slap and apology are in order. Now I'll try to compensate with this chapter, in which, finally, the reunion of the two halves of the virus will happen. _

_Chapter revised by my dear friend and beta iratepirate. Many thanks for all your help, hun!_

_Also many thanks to NeverMineToHold for making me realize that the German words I had originally intended for this chapter sounded awkward. I hope the new selection sounds better._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

**Don't let the bed bugs bite**

The night was starry, just at it had been when the Red Devil had made his first appearance and had had his first victory – nobody could have told which had happened sooner. Perhaps it was because beer, weed and adrenaline were running freely, or maybe because by the time the group of teenagers noticed that the pilot of the red sports car never allowed anybody to see his face – or any other part of him for that matter – he had already won both their respect and their fear. Urban legends started to spread; some said that there was a ghost behind the polarized windscreen, others affirmed that they had seen the mysterious Devil running at more than three hundred miles per hour, a group of kids from Jasper, Nevada, had even had the nerve to swear that one pilot had died only for daring to scratch the Red Devil's paint…

But most of the more mature drivers dismissed those stories easily. It was known that the Devil was not one individual, but a team. There were reports of their victories in underground races held in different parts of the globe, some with even only minutes of difference. That, reluctantly, had been accepted as the official version, because there was no way that a pilot and his car could vanish from the surface of Earth and reappear thousands of miles away.

But which pilot was sitting idle under the full moon that night was one of the things that were meant to remain a mystery, one more to enlarge the legend of the Red Devil.

He had arrived driving slowly. As much as he was a creature of speed, it was known that he liked to arrive slowly, sometimes with so much stealth that he wasn't noticed until the moment of his victory itself, or at least that's what the urban legend said.

The clock marked 12:02 AM by the time a cloud with the shape of a claw left three gashes on the moon, making its light fade at the same time that the Red Devil decided that it was time to illuminate his path to glory. Headlights came to life and a whitish shine spread over the asphalt before him, making the small imperfections of the road stand out.

There was a response from his rival. The white sports car, ironic nemesis with its yellow stripes mimicking angel's wings, turned on its lights as well, flickering in challenge.

If the urban legends were to be considered as reliable sources of information, it would be fair to assume that that was the first time the Red Devil faced a confrontation of that kind, at least since his short, but infamous career had began. But then again, what were legends, but stories spread mouth by mouth, faster than a casual kiss?

White and Red roared, engines burning adrenaline in the shape of fuel. No language was spoken, but the code was very clear. Two had arrived; only one was meant to leave.

* * *

><p>A series of buzzing sounds could be heard coming from the console of the white sports car as its wheels started to challenge the road.<p>

The console illuminated. _"Good start, Bee. Keep your distance,"_ Raf's voice said through the comm link.

Another sequence of computerized harmonics made Raf laugh. _"I know white is not your colour, but Ratchet's hologram generator was a little rusted and couldn't do better with your yellow paintjob."_ His voice was as high pitched as any other human child of his age, but yet it sounded very mature. Bumblebee had noticed that since the first time he had heard his little, but best friend speaking.

"_Focus on the race, Bumblebee,"_ Arcee's serious tone made Bumblebee's console blink. _"Lead him to my position and avoid engaging."_

Bumblebee nodded in his computerized language and sped up to 75 miles per hour, giving his side mirror the same attention he was giving the road ahead.

He buzzed.

"_Don't worry,"_ Raf told him from the Autobot base. _"There are no human drivers close to your location."_

"_Knock Out is closing the distance. Be careful,"_ Arcee said.

Bumblebee increased his speed, but just when he was reaching 90 miles per hour he confirmed with a series of frantic beeps that next phase of the confrontation was about to begin.

"_He's taunting you,"_ Raf said. _"Are you sure you have played chicken before?"_

Bumblebee buzzed in response.

"_Really? And what do you guys call it on Cybertron?"_

Bumblebee's reply was overwhelmed by the roar of his engine. His wheels lay rubber as he skidded and turned around, immediately heading towards his rival as fast as a bullet.

"_Activate the temporary force field Ratchet installed for you," _Arcee said. _"We are not looking for heroes tonight."_

The distance closed so fast that Arcee was still speaking when Bumblebee had Knock Out's headlights shining all over his hood. The gust of wind that shattered him was more like a tornado, its caress so intense that for a moment Bumblebee thought that his holographic disguise had been swept away like fog.

Next thing he knew, Knock Out was several meters behind him, riding as the devil he was toward the mountain road.

"_He jumped! Scrap, he's playing with you!" _Arcee said._ "Chase him and lead him to my position."_

Bumblebee beeped with notorious annoyance.

"_Deactivating the force field is not an option," _the high ranked female stated. _"I know it slows you down, but Knock Out may shoot you if he gets tired of taunting you. Remember that you can't give away your identity until we have him surrounded."_

Something resembling a computerized sigh illuminated Bumblebee's console as he gave chase, keeping his course somewhat erratic as he had seen some human drivers do in that kind of race.

But his competitive instinct kicked in as he realized that with every nanoklik the shape of Knock Out became more distant. Increasing his speed to 140 miles per hour, he decided that accomplishing the mission was not in direct conflict with winning the challenge.

Knock Out kept the same speed, somewhat waiting for him.

What happened next was way too fast to explain it with computerized language. It started with darkness. Knock Out's lights shut off, but it was more than that; it was as if the Decepticon had disappeared from the face of the Earth. Then the familiar feeling of oil under his tires made Bumblebee realize that he had been too naïve and had driven directly into a trap.

"_Bumblebee, watch—"_

Another voice, snobbish and malicious, invaded the comm link and silenced Raf's. By then, Bumblebee had lost control and was heading towards the edge of the road. _"I would say that this equals the score, scout,"_ Knock Out said, obviously referring to their last encounter in which the Decepticon had been the one fooled by the old oil trick. _"But I should emphasize the fact that I _love_ to win."_

Knock Out was literally flying when he returned to Bumblebee's range of vision, having performed a stunning jump from a natural ramp made by rocks on the side of the road. He was heading towards the ravine beneath in which Arcee was located.

Bumblebee tried to warn his companion but he had no time. Something big, blue and heavy impacted him from one side. If he had had enough clarity of mind, he would have been grateful for the temporary force field that Ratchet had created for him. But it was hard to think when being rammed at 200 miles per hour and literally embedded into the mountain.

* * *

><p>"<em>Guten nacht, <em>_liebling__,"_ Knock Out said, landing on the bottom of the ravine. "We meet again. I knew you couldn't stay away from my chassis. I can't say that I blame you."

Arcee rode towards the road, the surprise element totally reversed on her, but Knock Out accelerated and braked in front of her.

"Leaving so soon? Ah, how disappointing, not to mention insulting… Don't worry about the scout, my dear, my partner is currently taking care of him. I hope you don't mind that I brought some assistance of my own. It's something that I usually do when I drive directly into an ambush."

Arcee braked as well, rising an impressive cloud of dust and pebbles, and managed to avoid hitting Knock Out by one of those miracles that only happen once in a lifetime. She had no concern for the Decepticon whatsoever, but her lighter frame wouldn't have resisted such an impact. Still, she couldn't avoid skidding and crashing against a near boulder. It was only later when she realized how desperate Knock Out was to risk his finish like that.

"Mm, so you like it rough?" the medic mocked. "I may comply with your wishes. You are hardly my type, but I must confess I have a weakness for dirty little pleasure bots like you."

Arcee didn't allow anger to blind her. By then, she had understood that words were just another weapon for that arrogant Decepticon; he seemed to be too much in love with his voice, perhaps as much as he was with his appearance. Arcee, on the other hand, was a soldier, one trained to fight with honour, not with mirages.

The blink of a familiar energy signature on her radar indicated that reinforcements had arrived to help Bumblebee. That left Arcee free to engage with the one that carried both her curse and her cure.

She transformed to her bipedal mode and pointed her blaster toward him. "You are outnumbered, Decepticon. Surrender peacefully. There is no point in engaging."

"Peacefully?" Knock Out said laughing, still in alt mode. "You stage this masquerade and you ask me to surrender, I quote, _peacefully?"_

A strange vibration tingled in Arcee's circuits. She repressed a shudder when she realized that it was being caused by the nanomites reacting inside her body to whatever Knock Out was carrying. It was bad enough to host an unknown virus of human manufacture, but it was twice as bad to share it with that insufferable Decepticon.

He must have felt something too because his laughter stopped, although died would have been a more proper word. The vibrations in his chassis were not being caused by his engine, Arcee could tell.

When he transformed to his bipedal mode, his face was not only serious, but threatening. He also seemed to have given up his charade of gallantry. "You have something that I want, Autobot. Give it to me."

"You have some nerve talking to me like that," Arcee said, frowning. "Especially considering it was you who brought this virus on us."

Knock Out didn't give any signal of having heard her, or noticing her blaster pointed at him. His right hand reformatted into a sharp drill which wasted no time in starting to rotate. "A small sample will do. Now, which arm should I remove? Right or left? Perhaps even a leg? Or what about your pretty head?"

The maniacal shine in his eyes made it very clear that he had left irony aside. He was talking very seriously. Arcee had heard about the taste of that so-called physician for dismembering his victims. She was definitely not going to become one.

"What about if we remove your little toy first?" she said, firing.

Knock Out dodged the shot and pounced at her agilely, the serrated edge of his weapon hungry to slice her armour.

Arcee rolled aside, avoiding his first attack. At the same time, she kicked him in the side, putting some welcomed distance between her frame and the blasted drill.

Knock Out regained his balance and turned toward her again, a smirk reappearing on his face plates. Arcee had her blaster aimed at him, but she didn't shoot.

"So you decided to be an uncooperative glitch?" he sneered. "Do you really need a physical explanation of what I do with ill-behaved patients like you?"

"I don't have time for your little games, Decepticon. Surrender right now or I'll show you just how uncooperative I can be."

"The name is Knock Out, femme, and you are about to learn that even daring to threaten my finish is a _big_ mistake."

Arcee bent down by instinct, not seeing the blade that Knock Out had thrown at her, but feeling the gust of air mechano millimeters from her helm. Next thing she knew, a familiar scent of perfumed wax was all over her, and her back hit the ground as the Decepticon straddled her.

"You know," he hissed, voice between seductive and maniacal, "under different circumstances, you would have certainly enjoyed this."

Arcee struggled but he was stronger than her, not to mention that her position was completely disadvantageous. She cursed herself for not having shot him when she had had the chance, but it was too late now. She could hear the drill rotating and could literally smell its sharpness as Knock Out brought it to her face.

"Now, where would your head look better, _schatz_?" he mocked. "On the top of my berth, perhaps? Oh, but don't you worry. I'll make sure to perform a clean decapitation. I'm an expert on these matters, you see."

When the whirr of the drill was right above her face, Arcee felt the familiar sting of fear, a feeling that she used to repress on the battlefield until the proximity of death reminded her that she was not immortal. Behind the drill, she had a fleeting view of the two red optics that were fixed on hers. Despite the urgency of the moment, she had time to notice that they were not staring at her with mockery anymore.

Time seemed to stop when the drill stopped descending, almost grazing her face, rotating in cycles that suddenly seemed so slow. It was then when Arcee felt it, the nanomites moving again, but it was more than that; her body itself was humming. The sensation was not painful, not even unpleasant. A bizarre feeling of harmony spread through her frame as she felt an invisible force treating her with the most subtle caresses. Horrible beauty, not brought by the proximity of death, but by the reaction the slagging virus was having now that both of its components were so close.

The drill stopped for good, giving her a clear image of her attacker, who seemed as confused as she was. She couldn't help but notice that his face looked so juvenile when it was deprived of any trace of arrogance or malice.

The moment spread, just as the feeling inside her frame, a feeling she was certain the Decepticon was experiencing too. And for that impossible moment, all traces of hostility disappeared and all she could feel was those red eyes penetrating hers, and the pleasant, unwelcome sensation running through her fuel lines with more intensity than flaming Energon. The memory was inevitable; the arm beside her head, the weight on her frame, the warmth of a face so close to hers, the optics lost in hers…

_Tailgate…_

But it wasn't Tailgate, as the scent of the perfumed wax reminded her almost aggressively. It was somebody else, close to her as nobody had been in vorns, and just as intimate…

"What…" she heard Knock Out above her, his voice as intoxicating as it was beautiful. For the first time, Arcee realized just how attractive he was when he was that peaceful, when he looked at her with those intense optics…

Her defenses lowered, as well as her firewalls, allowing the virus to make her fuel boil, or maybe it was the effect of her spark pulsating in extreme, colorful force. But she didn't feel any fear. The thing chain-reacting inside of her couldn't have been more distant from danger. She could not remember any other moment in which she had felt so alive, so hungry... Illusion or virus, it didn't matter; all that Arcee could tell was that she had completely forgotten who she was.

* * *

><p>Victory, eternal victory… Roads lying under his rubber, sharp saws cutting perfectly – beautifully – through sentient metal, his spark exploding in ecstasy, the remains of his overload floating in colorful particles of pleasure…<p>

Knock Out couldn't have told which he enjoyed the most. He knew one thing, though; the current moment was just as pleasant. The moment the virus inside of him had started to act was the moment in which Knock Out realized just how foreign of his own body he really was. Never in his life had he experienced such lack of control, not even when he had challenged his systems with deadly doses of high grade Energon or even higher doses of interfacing.

But whatever was happening to him was far more mind blowing. He knew that somewhere, on the other side of the veil of mist, there was an enemy he had to terminate. A subdued, helpless enemy, just the kind he loved to fight. But his body was stubbornly refusing to obey him, or maybe his mind was the problem, hesitant to give the order and thus end his confusion... and his pleasure.

When was the last time he had felt that way, really? _Never_, that hateful voice within reminded him. Pleasure was for him to take; his conditions, his way. Then why the slag was he straddling an Autobot and thinking about kissing her instead of killing her?

He would have shaken his head, if the huge mantle wrapped around him would have allowed him any movement. Instead, he focused on lowering his drill. Just some few mechano inches more, three at the most, and it would be over, his hesitation, his confusion…

… and also the beautiful optics looking straight into his soul…

When his mind blanked and all that caught his senses was that beautiful, feminine face, Knock Out noticed that it wasn't his weapon that was lowering. It was his face, looking for another face, looking for her lips…

But confusion, hallucination, nightmare or whatever it was, ended just as he was starting to get caught in the field of energy emanating from that beautiful magnet beneath him.

A shadow darkened the object of his desire, and suddenly Knock Out could give it a form. Bulkhead's wrecking ball impacted him on the side, sending him spiraling several meters to the bottom of the ravine. For once, he didn't care about the possible damage to his finish, he didn't care about the dust threatening to get inside his joints, he didn't even care about the pain. His rage went beyond his usual, superficial fears; the fleeting bond he had shared had been severed, snatched away from him.

He roared, in impotence and frustration. But that was as far as he went. His descent didn't end on the dusty surface he had expected now that his mental processor was clear enough to allow him to think. He hit something hard with the back of his head, and he realized that he had been nothing more than a mouse thrown directly into a trap.

Optimus Prime's trailer… He recognized the three walls swallowing him immediately. The following electrical discharge was meaningless. Knock Out was far too angry for having been so weak to care about mild pain, or the consequent unconsciousness that it brought him. As his world turned dark, the last thing he saw was the accursed, beautiful face of the Autobot, looking at him with those same blue, intense eyes.

Then the fourth wall closed and Knock Out could see nothing more.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>How did you like this cliffhanger?<em>

_As you noticed, I mentioned Tailgate as Arcee's former lover – more details about that relationship will be revealed shortly. _

_Okay, that's all for today, but I promise that I won't take too long with the next update, not now when things are getting really ho— interesting :oP _

_Many thanks for your reviews. They are always very inspiring :o)_


	6. Say cheese!

_This chapter was going to be posted much earlier – or at least that's what I thought a while ago when I had it almost ready – but I got busy with some personal things and didn't write any bit of fanfiction for almost a month…_

_Ugh, I must remember not to do that again. I really missed my vice._

_Anyway, here you have this new Tick chapter._

_Many thanks to my sista iratepirate for beta reading._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

**Say cheese!**

Arcee watched Bulkhead unload Optimus Prime's infamous cargo without any care whatsoever and tried to convince herself that such was the proper treatment for one very evil and dangerous Decepticon.

However, she couldn't help but cringe when Knock Out's head hit the floor sonorously, and was subsequently used to mop the floor as Bulkhead dragged him by his feet to the brig. Bulkhead was not generally a violent mech, only when he was angry, and Arcee could tell that he was very angry at the moment. The only other time in which Arcee had seen that murderous shine in his optics had been vorns ago, when a Decepticon had shot her in the back. That had been the first time she had seen Bulkhead ripping out a spark chamber.

Was that the reason why Bulkhead was currently so angry? Because he had thought that Knock Out had tried to kill her?

It would have been easy to say that Bulkhead had saved her from the Decepticon medic, but for some reason Arcee was feeling something very far from gratitude, or relief. When she recognized the feeling as anger, she also realized that it wasn't caused by the fact that she had needed to be saved after being bested by an enemy, but by the brutal disruption of the bizarre bond she had established with Knock Out, or better said, with whatever resided inside of him.

Arcee liked to believe that she was a practical, composed soldier, able to address any circumstance with a cool head. But the image she had of herself was proving to be a living hell to bear now that what she believed to be her strength was falling at her feet.

Ever since she had returned to base, she had done her best to maintain the façade and shake away the remains of the shameful moment in which she had lost control. She knew she had an unknown virus making a mess within her systems, but that didn't justify how easily she had forgotten who she was and what she stood for, how easily she had given up and lost herself in those piercing red optics…

If only Bulkhead hadn't arrived in time…

"Yes!" Miko shattered the uncomfortable silence by jumping over the rail, carrying her, for once, welcomed enthusiasm. "You got the bad guy! We got really worried when Raf lost contact with Bumblebee."

Bumblebee excitedly chirped out a summary of his race with Knock Out, his fight with Breakdown and the assistance of Bulkhead. Raf, as always, perfectly understood the computerized language of his Autobot friend and hurried to greet him.

"Stay back, kids," Bulkhead said to the three humans.

"Aw, but I want to see him up close!" Miko complained immediately.

"I said no, Miko. This Decepticon is dangerous." Bulkhead accentuated his words by continuing his rough treatment of the unconscious form of Knock Out. Arcee tried to dismiss the uncomfortable feeling that sight caused her.

"Are you okay, Arcee?" she heard the gentle voice of Optimus Prime beside her.

Arcee turned towards him, perhaps a little too fast. She immediately regretted the gesture and hoped that he wouldn't notice anything strange. She had never even thought about hiding things from her leader and guide, but only the idea of having Optimus notice her weird, intimate moment with Knock Out was unbearable.

"Affirmative," she replied curtly. "When does Ratchet plan to extract the sample from of the Decepticon's fuel line and get this over with?" She remembered that she had to calm down. She couldn't afford to suggest to Optimus that something was wrong.

"As soon as Knock Out returns to an online status," the Prime said, looking towards Bulkhead, who had stopped roughing the prisoner up for a moment to talk to Ratchet. "Ratchet said that it would be better if all of Knock Out's systems are running."

Arcee sighed. The hope of getting the sample and the Decepticon out of the base in less than a klik crumbled.

"Are you sure you are all right?" Optimus insisted. "Bulkhead said you had problems handling Knock Out."

For once, Arcee didn't care about her warrior pride and wished such had been the case. Being bested by an enemy was something she could handle, but not feeling comfortable beneath him… She cursed inwardly, wishing more than ever that Optimus hadn't noticed anything. She couldn't afford disappointing him that way.

"The Decepticon took me by surprise; that was my mistake. Fortunately, Bulkhead arrived just in time and I didn't get seriously damaged. Thank you for your concern, Optimus."

She hoped that that would be enough. Much to her relief, the Autobot leader didn't narrow his optics at her, his mouth didn't deform with the slightest distrust… Maybe she had been lucky this time and Optimus hadn't noticed anything at all.

"Still, have Ratchet examine you," Optimus said. "I want to make sure that the virus hasn't progressed since the last time he checked you."

"Got it."

She wasn't surprised to find Jack waiting for her as soon as she finished speaking to Optimus. It had been hard for her to accept, but she had gotten used to the idea that the young human man cared about her, and that his concern was not only acceptable, but touching in some sort of way. Arcee generally rejected sentimentalism, but she was thankful for her partner.

"So," Jack told her with a smile, "everything worked according to plan."

"Not exactly, but it worked nevertheless."

"Uh… Bulkhead said that Knock Out gave you a hard time."

Scrap. Had _everyone _suddenly decided to treat her like the petal of a flower? She was a soldier, not some sort of ladybot—

"_You know, under different circumstances, you would have certainly enjoyed this."_

Something inside Arcee froze. Why, why couldn't she purge that voice from her head? She turned her back to Bulkhead and his disturbing cargo and tried to focus only on Jack. "No harder than other Decepticons have given me. There's nothing to worry about, Jack. My status is perfectly operational, and I will be optimal once Ratchet extracts whatever is needed from that Decepticreep."

The feeling of invisible fingers teasing her back and neck almost managed to make her legs tremble. _He _was still there, disturbing her with his mere presence… Why couldn't Bulkhead just get him out of there? Arcee couldn't wait to be galaxies away from that Decepticon scum. That would certainly end her confusion.

"Arcee."

Ratchet calling her and signaling to the corridor that led towards the Repair Bay could hardly be called a welcomed interruption, but in that moment it arrived like a saviour. Returning to the uncomfortable position of being examined would be humiliating, but at least it would distract her from treacherous thoughts. No matter how, she had to get that Decepticon out of her systems.

"I'll be fine, Jack," she said, addressing her partner again before diligently following Ratchet's directions.

* * *

><p><em>Imperfection detected.<em>

As his consciousness started to blink and reminded him that he was something resembling alive, the list of his priorities scrolled down his HUD. Core temperature, fuel levels, status of gyros and hydraulics… all relegated for the most important marker, the one that stated that there was a dent now featuring on his grille.

Knock Out would have cursed if pain and his pride would have allowed him to do so. It wasn't only his frame, but his head was also hurting like the day on which he had over-energized to near termination. He wished such was the case. Of course, if he could have chosen, he would have picked a simple reboot of his systems after having his daily beauty recharge cycle. That was the best way to come out of unconsciousness, remembering and verifying that he remained beautiful and perfect.

Beauty was not his immediate concern, though; perfection was. Even before activating his optics he tried to take his fingers to whatever ugly thing he had now instead of a chest. He failed. Thick cuffs kept his hands secured behind his back, a fact that didn't surprise him, but still made him grimace. Unless cuffs were part of kinky diversions, Knock Out _hated _being chained.

But at least his immobility was only partial, as he realized when he moved his legs and disengaged from the very uncomfortable position in which he had been lying. It seemed that whoever had thrown him into the cell hadn't had any concern for his comfort.

His left leg landed on the floor with a sonorous thud. Knock Out didn't care if somebody had heard. With his optics online and most of his systems already active, he wanted to make the fact that he was conscious again very clear. Prisoner as he was, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. He knew perfectly well why the Autobots had captured him, and even though the idea of being used as a laboratory specimen really disturbed him, he was also in desperate need of a cure for the virus that had invaded his systems. He couldn't afford to return to the wreck he had been right before the Autobots captured him. Very few times had Knock Out been ashamed of himself, but what had happened only some breems ago seemed bad enough to hunt him for the rest of the vorn.

Loneliness only accentuated the feeling. Running along with the accursed virus, heat and shame spread through his energy core when Knock Out recalled a certain face and a certain pair of blue optics… He dismissed the image with a frantic shake of his head. Since when had he become such a weak, _sentimental _robot? The mere thought managed to make him want to purge his fuel tanks, but it was not enough to make him forget him how much he had wanted to touch that face with his own, how desperately he had wanted to kiss those lip components…

"_Scheisse!" _he cursed, his vocalizer obeying him this time. He never had nightmares, but this had to be the substance they were made of. If Breakdown ever found out about his shameful Autobot crush, Knock Out would never hear the end of it. Autobot females were for the Decepticons to take by force, not to fool around with in a pathetic display of romantic slag.

If he hadn't valued his paintjob so much, he would have kicked the small ledge protruding from the wall until it came down. It wasn't usual that he was that furious.

He tried to calm down, as much as he could in his current predicament. Trying to return to his former self, he rerouted his priorities and tried to focus on his damaged grille. The damage wasn't as bad as he had feared initially; his grille remained in its place, only visibly dented… He cursed again, wishing so much that he could give that display of imperfection some proper attention.

_Slagging female… Slag her to the Pit!_

Another shake of his head, and another attempt to drive his thoughts somewhere else. He took a quick glance around his confinements, trying to find possible ways to breach its security. The cell was small, big enough to allow him to take three steps and that was all. He wasn't planning to have that joke of a walk now, though; his head felt as if it was being drilled from inside, and he also had an aching pain inside his chest, not precisely caused by his dented grille.

"Oh, get down, you!" he spat in a low voice. He was very used to addressing his interface equipment, although not precisely to ease it. He usually loved how playful Knock Out Junior could get with the proper motivation, but right now having his mechhood humming in remembrance of the Autobot female was highly disturbing, not to mention humiliating.

That wasn't the best moment to get angry over a frustrated desire, especially considering that said desire had to do with an Autobot glitch. He didn't want to think what would happen if he faced her again. As much as he reminded himself that he hated that pathetic imitation of a pleasure drone, he hadn't been able to control himself once he had touched her. The virus inside of him had reacted unexpectedly, showing him a part of himself that he definitely didn't want to meet, even less to encourage. More than ever, he was certain that the thing running through his fuel lines was destroying him.

He sighed and dragged himself until he could lean his back on the wall of the cell. Self control was not really his forte. What was he supposed to do, helpless prisoner of both the Autobots and his own instincts? It was bad enough being in enemy's hands, but it was far worse with such an unpleasant ache within his spark chamber. If at least he could have given himself some relief, but with his hands cuffed it was completely impossible. Overloads required physical or energetic stimulation, and so far he had nothing but images and memories. He was doomed.

Knock Out cursed again, this time in Cybertronian. When had everything gone to the Pit?

A sound to his left made him turn, his optical sensors managing to catch a small flash of light. It was dark outside his cell, but he could see a small, organic figure that hurried to get away from his line of sight.

Only that the creature hadn't been fast enough.

"Well, hello. I wasn't aware that the Autobots allowed their pets to roam freely around their base."

There was a moment of silence before the figure returned to its previous position, the little recording device still in its hand.

Knock Out didn't hate humans. They actually made him feel nothing but indifference. For most of the Decepticons they were nuisances on a planet rich in Energon, but Knock Out saw them as mere bugs that every now and then provided him with a decent challenge in street racing, even though his excitement lasted only the few seconds he usually took to defeat them.

But that human was one step above causing him indifference. It was a pet of the Autobots, and that turned it into his only way to escape, or at least to get more information about his capture.

So he smirked at the little slime ball seductively, with the same smirk that had melted so many femmes and mechs and turned them into goo beneath his feet.

* * *

><p>Most people had a thing inside of them that usually alerted them when they were doing something they shouldn't be doing. Some called it preservation instinct, others just called it common sense. But whatever its name was, and beyond courage and adrenaline, that thing kept them away from danger – not to mention that usually managed to add some extra time to their life spans – and gave them some sort of prudence.<p>

Fortunately for her excitement, Miko had never had that thing, or at least she never listened to it. When something called her attention she went for it, her reaction as instantaneous as it was genuine. It was just who she was, and neither her repressed inner voice of reason nor anyone else's opinion would stop her from pursuing adventure.

Going to see the Decepticon prisoner had been the number one priority of the day, despite what Bulkhead had said about the captive being very dangerous. Miko was sure she had nothing to fear; Knock Out was chained and behind bars. And even if he wasn't, danger had always been a colorful advertisement filled with arrows, lights and promises of fun, especially since she had met the Autobots.

_Click._

She took the first picture even before acknowledging the inert form on the floor. It would make a nice addition to her collection; she was currently about to download the third stash of pictures from her cell phone. It was a good thing that the Autobots had never paid attention to the things she registered with her phone, otherwise they would probably say something about it being top secret material or something. In Miko's language, secrets made things far more exciting.

_Click._

Only then she focused eyes instead of lens on Knock Out. It was the first time she had seen the Decepticon so close, and even though she was used to seeing and interacting with extraterrestrial robots, there was something very different in the one before her. She came to the decision why very quickly; it had to be the evilness… the aura of arrogance and cruelty displayed on his face, even though the Decepticon was currently out of commission.

She was about to hit the capture button on her phone for the third time when Knock Out moved.

Instinct, rather than caution, made Miko step back towards the shadows. She must have had some of that preservation thing in her after all, or maybe it was her memories kicking in. She hadn't forgotten how Breakdown, the Decepticon who was Bulkhead's sworn enemy, had tried to kill her on first sight.

Knock Out moved, disengaging himself from what looked like a very uncomfortable position. Miko didn't know why Bulkhead was so mad with this Decepticon in particular, but it had been a while since she had seen her friend acting so roughly with something other than Ratchet's tools.

Miko giggled when she came to the conclusion. It had to be because of Arcee. Miko was a faithful supporter of the idea that Bulkhead saw Arcee as something more than a fellow soldier, even though Jack and Raf had disagreed with her – as they had put it – very vivid imagination. They didn't even know if Autobots fell in love with each other. That was something that Miko had to find out ASAP.

Certain that the shadows were a secure shelter, Miko took another picture, noticing for the first time that Knock Out was something that could be called a handsome Transformer, if such thing existed.

She raised an eye brow when he cursed in German. Since when did the Decepticons speak German? Well, they were robots after all, and robots could assimilate immense amounts of data that humans could only dream about. Fortunately, Miko spoke three languages fluently, besides her native Japanese, and could understand the word perfectly.

When he spoke again, this time in a computerized screech, Miko knew he was doing it in Cybertronian. She had heard the Autobots using their language sometimes, when they didn't want the humans to know what they were saying, she guessed. Only that she doubted the Autobots used dirty words, as whatever Knock Out had said certainly was.

She took another picture, but the cell phone hadn't registered the image when he was already turning in her direction. Her preservation instinct chose that moment to kick in, making her step aside.

"Well, hello. I wasn't aware that the Autobots allowed their pets to roam freely around their base."

Miko almost dropped her cell phone. Now _that _was not amongst her plans…

Which made it, in her language, even better.

When she stepped forward, her recently discovered instinct had lost everything regarding preservation.

* * *

><p>Her shadow and the sound of her steps had become a usual, and welcome, companion for Arcee. But as she walked the long corridor, she couldn't find the peace of mind needed to enjoy loneliness. She was uncomfortable, anxious… and angry at herself for being unable to avert the direction of her steps and thoughts.<p>

Ratchet had found a mess inside of her, to put it in simple words. The slagging nanomites inhabiting her fuel lines had thought it would be funny to make her life more miserable by mutating and starting to invade her main systems. It had taken a humiliating EMP session and an upgrade to her slagging bracelet to keep the invading little fraggers under control.

Only that she wasn't in any condition that could be called controlled. Like her nanomites, Arcee's processor was boiling, and no matter how much she cursed, she knew the scrap inside of her wouldn't stop.

Every step burned, every mechano inch closer to her objective. Arcee knew she shouldn't be there, on her way to the brig without any expectations, but she was being dragged, a puppet being manipulated by unnerving strings. Depending on others had always had a priority place amongst her nightmares, but depending on a Decepticon… she didn't even want to go there.

When the reflection of energy bars started to play with the shadows on the wall, Arcee was surprised that she wasn't as angry as she thought she would be when arriving to her destination. Once again, whatever energy field created between her nanomites and whatever the Decepticon was carrying was harmonizing, giving her a feeling of comfort and urging her to get closer to the other part of the virus.

Could frustration be pleasant? Once again, she didn't want to go there.

"… a little more to the right… Yeah, that's it. Are you sure that's your best angle? I think your face is kinda symmetrical."

Arcee frowned.

_Miko…_

She had lost count of the times that the human girl's impudence had made her talk to Optimus about the inconvenience of having the kids around. She had also lost count of the times she had told Bulkhead to be more careful with his charge.

Arcee could have come up with many reasons to be upset with Miko for being in an unauthorized area. She even could have found the bizarre photographic session that was currently going on ridiculous …

Only that she couldn't.

Anger returned to her processor as the pleasant sensation of the Decepticon's proximity reminded her just how dependant she was on his part of the virus, just how dependant she was on _him._

The sound of his voice didn't help. He was saying something about opening the cell to enhance his photogenic abilities. Every word and every harmonic was an intense reminder of what Arcee and he shared. It was driving her insane.

She felt the corridor around her rotating as she struggled to regain control. Anger, frustration, shame, hateful desire… She couldn't allow a virus to be more powerful than her.

Her reverie ended when she noticed something, the world becoming tangible again for the first time since she had entered that Primus damned corridor.

Knock Out had stopped talking.

Could it be that he had sensed her proximity? Was he going through the same Pit of a process she was experiencing?

"Miko," she said coldly, making sure that her next steps were stronger than her will.

The girl startled, turning around as her cell phone clicked again.

If Miko was at least slightly repentant for her transgression, she didn't show it. She looked rather cheerful and energetic, as she always was.

"Arcee, hey!"

_Look at the human, only at the human. Don't you dare to turn to the cell..._

"You have no clearance to be in this area. Return to the control room."

"But I was just—"

"Now, Miko."

Fortunately, their human allies had learned quickly that Arcee wasn't as easy going as the rest of the Autobots. Without being rude or extremely cold, she had found the way to make sure that the three kids understood that she _never _joked.

It was only when she couldn't hear Miko's steps anymore that Arcee turned to her right, trying to convince herself that she had what it took to keep an icy façade. She had her pride in her favour, albeit lying had never been her style.

She wasn't surprised when she found Knock Out standing before her, Energon bars meaning no slag at all, and his optics staring at hers.

Penetrating them would have been a more accurate way to say it, penetrating them until they reached the very core of her spark.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>Bulkhead really likes to drag prisoners by their feet, doesn't he?<em>

_I like to end my chapters with cliffhangers, I suppose you noticed :oP _

_I'll make sure to post soon. Please review and tell me what you think. We're about to reach a very important twist in the story._


	7. That little spot that stings

_Huh… how to apologize? You have been such a wonderful group of readers and I've let you down with this story… It's true that I've been insanely busy most of these past few months, but that's no excuse to leave you hanging like I did._

_Another truth is that I lost a lot of inspiration after the disappointment the second season of TFP turned to be. It was sad, very sad, to witness most of those wonderful characters treated with so much disrespect, not to mention all the promising subplots and character development thrown to the garbage can. Everybody has their own opinion on the matter, but in my case, seeing the series being filled with clichés and Mary/Gary-sueish bullslag almost managed to kill my enthusiasm for Prime._

_But, BUT, at the end my love for these giant robots prevailed – also the fact that the second season ended, lol – and I found my inspiration again. No matter how badly the series was thrown to the Pit, it would be just as unfair to forget all the awesomeness that the show had at the beginning._

_So I'm back to this fic, revitalized and as in love with it as I was when I first started writing it._

_Please enjoy, and feel free to take a look at the previous chapters if you don't remember what the heck was this all about. I'm aware that it has been a while since I posted an update :oP_

_Many thanks to iratepirate for her help and support, not to mention the time she takes to revise my grammar._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

**That little spot that stings**

"A little late for your doctor's appointment, aren't you _liebling_?"

Arcee frowned. It was very easy to forget that that presumptuous Decepticon was actually a physician.

"You're an insult to medical practice," she replied coldly.

"Why? Because medics _save _lives?" Knock Out laughed, his arrogant tone of voice doing nothing to ease Arcee's anxiety. "Oh, you heroic Autobots, always playing by the book… I wonder if you have the slightest idea of what life really means."

Arcee's frown increased, as impossible as she thought it would be. There was something in his voice, in his simple proximity, that made her feel angry. The nanomites attached to her circuits complied in unison, stubborn in reminding her that it wasn't precisely anger that ran through her fuel lines.

"Ah, I touched a sensitive spot, I presume," he continued. "Should I skip formalities, then, and proceed to the reason that brought you here? Perhaps I should spare you from admitting the obvious and simply state the fact that you couldn't stay away from me."

Arcee had to make a big effort to avoid clenching her fists, not to mention activating her blaster. She didn't know what unnerved her more, his simple presence or the fact that he didn't seem to be as disturbed as she was. Had she gotten the worst part of the virus?

"I'm not going to waste my time with your delusions, Decepticon. I trust that you are already aware of the virus that infected us after our encounter with the human mercenaries."

Knock Out snorted. "Be certain that I was aware of that long before you, femme. I am a scientist."

Arcee could have thought of a hundred ways to refute his last statement, but the less time she remained there, the better.

"How fortunate," she said, trying to rotate the balance of mockery to her favor. "Then I assume you have come up with a solution already, being a _scientist_ as you claim to be."

It worked, at least momentarily. Knock Out's vain smirk vanished and left a dark grimace in its place. Good; one mad, evil Decepticon was something Arcee could deal with.

"I would have a cure indeed, had I had access to a sample of the other half of the virus," he hissed between gritted dental plates. "But you were such a bad date, Autobot. You forgot to leave your number, not to mention your head."

She definitely didn't like the way he emphasized the word 'head'. "You will have to forgive me for that, but you were in such a hurry to flee with your tailpipe between your legs after the humans scrapped you…"

His optics narrowed, making Arcee feel better. If at least the nanomites stopped humming inside her, then perhaps she could give the current situation a label of normality.

"Masks off, Autobot," he spat. "I take it you are desperate to find an antivirus."

"Not as much as you are, I can see." Arcee felt better every with every astro-second. His anger also meant his defeat. If he remained like the self-centered Decepticon he really was, everything would be fine.

Knock Out seemed taken aback, but he tried to recover his façade. "So, we have a common goal… Cooperating with Autobots is not precisely listed amongst my directives, but I guess this time I can make an exception. Release me from this cell. I too am, I'm sure you can tell, very interested in finding a cure."

"When exactly do you think I was created, Decepticon? You were brought here as a prisoner, and thus you will remain until Ratchet examines you."

"Ratchet?" he spat the name with contempt. "Do you mean that old model is still running? The virus must have also corroded your cerebral shells if you think I'm going to allow that antique to put his rusted hands on me!"

"It's not like you have a choice in the matter."

Knock Out growled, struggling with his handcuffs despite the fact that he almost certainly knew that his efforts would be useless.

"You better save your energy," Arcee said, trying to ignore the fact that seeing him suffering, even if slightly, was a disturbing sight. "You are going to need it."

"Oh, that should be the last of your worries, _Autobot_. I have plenty of energy to spare!" Knock Out struggled a little more before falling to his knees. His head was bowed, making Arcee wonder if he was in any kind of pain. She turned her head aside, once again finding the idea upsetting.

"What is it?"

Arcee looked at him again.

"What is it that you carry?" he spoke again, his voice suddenly so calm and sinister. "I know that my part of the virus is merely the vessel of yours."

"Nanomites." She didn't know why she had replied. If anything, he deserved only her indifference. "Ratchet hasn't deciphered their complete composition, though."

"What did I tell you about that old model, _schöne Frau?" _ he said, moving to stand up but remaining on one knee. "He can run all the tests he wants, and yet he won't be able to decipher anything. We both know that."

His eyes pierced her more than focused on her when he raised his head. "We both know what we felt, back there on that filthy ground where you set your trap. Was it the proximity of my saw that made you tremble, my dear Autobot, or was it something else?"

Arcee's optics widened. Anger returned, an enemy she had been foolish enough to believe beaten. No, it hadn't been the sharp saw rotating so close to her face, it hadn't been the proximity of termination, it hadn't even been the knowledge that there was a potentially deadly virus within her…

"Is it my, allow me to quote you, _delusion _that is currently increasing the temperature of your energy core?"

It was true. Arcee's inner temperature was higher than warm. Pleasant, but annoying, just as everything regarding that Decepticon was turning out to be.

"We were infected by two halves of the same virus," she stated curtly. "It's only natural that they react when they detect each other's proximity."

"To the point of actually making me stop in the middle of an easy decapitation?" the doctor elevated his voice. "Wake up from your recharge cycle, femme! Whatever that virus did to us, it was not exactly accentuating our hatred for each other."

She found his words disturbing. Arcee didn't hate Knock Out. She didn't even know him, as much as his twisted actions spoke for themselves. 'Cons were cruel, and if what she had heard about him was true, that tidy and good looking mad doctor was one of the worst of his kind. But she didn't hate him. Not now.

"Ratchet will find an antivirus," she said, trying to convince herself more than Knock Out. "You can be grateful that Optimus Prime is willing to let you benefit from the cure, even though you don't deserve it."

The virus must have disrupted her perception, because for a moment she could have sworn he looked hurt. But a hallucination was exactly what it was, because next thing Arcee saw was his usual cocky expression splattered over his face.

"So the magnanimous Optimus Prime will share a piece of his generosity with me? And I had thought that this wouldn't be a lucky day after all…"

The air vent on her shoulder expelled a small gust, signaling that Arcee had had enough of that conversation. "If you are done with your ranting, you'd do well in keeping your vocalizer shut and not giving us any trouble. As I said, Ratchet will examine you soon and all this will be over."

She turned around, her heels clicking painfully on the floor as she tried to reach the exit. For a moment, she thought she would collapse again. She was very aware that she was leaving something _very _important behind.

"Wait!"

A yell, an order, or had it been a plea? All that Arcee knew was that she recognized the need in Knock Out's voice because it was the same one she was feeling. Distance hurt; it would hurt more now that they both knew what they felt. Yes, they both knew what they had felt, back on that filthy ground…

When she looked over her shoulder she saw him still on one knee, his head bowed again. Arcee didn't have to focus her optical sensors to realize that he was trembling.

"…closer…" she was sure she heard him whisper.

"Are you in need of assistance? Did you sustain serious damage during the battle?" she asked.

Knock Out raised his head and looked at her. "Come closer."

She didn't do it because he had said so. She did it because it was the only way to ease the pain. A moth and a flame… Which was her role? She didn't dare to find out.

"You came here only to be closer to me," he said, standing on his two feet. "You _needed _it. Don't dare to deny it, Autobot."

Arcee hesitated. "The virus…"

"Was created as one, and as such is meant to remain. Do you understand why neither your old doctor nor your oh-so-righteous leader will be able to do anything to help us? Or tell me, were you so honest with them that you told them exactly what happened right before they captured me?"

Arcee hadn't noticed, but she was standing right outside the cell again, the nanomites inside her harmonizing with Knock Out more intensely than before.

"Nothing happened," she reassured herself. She had to show the fragging virus that controlling her emotions was still out of its reach.

"Oh, really? I'll tell you what happened. For the first time in my life I willingly stopped what was meant to be a majestic dissection."

Arcee frowned. Was that all she was to him? A corpse to be cut into pieces?

"Oh yes, your features are lovely indeed," he said, getting so close to the energy bars that his face plates turned as purple as Energon. "How beautiful you would look on my dissection table…"

"You are sick," she spat with honest disgust.

His optics narrowed. "And yet some breems ago all you could think about was kissing me. Or tell me, my dear femme, was it something else that you wanted? Did you want me to go beyond a simple kiss?"

Arcee's hands trembled. Fortunately he was starting too intensely at her optics to notice. "The simple idea of your proximity repulses me."

"And then again, there's nothing but a few mechano-inches between us," he said, smirking. "And a set of Energon bars too, of course… Why don't you disconnect them, _Arcee?"_

His voice was silk; soft, deadly silk floating so easily between mockery and seduction. She had no doubt that the sinister monster would love to have her on his dissection table.

"You seem to forget that you are talking to a sentient being, Decepticon," she said with the most composed voice she could achieve. "If you wish to address a simple virus, I'm afraid you're wasting your vocalizer on deaf ears."

"Am I?" he hissed. "What do you say if we run a little test of our own?"

Before she could do anything other than frown, he got so close to the bars that she was sure his face plates would burn.

"Touch me," he said in low voice.

If Arcee thought she was making any progress in controlling the situation, she was completely wrong. Two words were enough to take her by surprise, her spark pulsating as hard as it had done when he had said her name.

"Touch me," he insisted. "See what your part of the virus has to say about my _repulsing_ proximity."

When she was out of words she knew that the battle was lost. The accursed virus inside her advanced its intrusion, looming over her neural net, strong as an emotion.

"Ah, not such a deaf virus now, is it? Why don't you sneak your little, delicate hand between these bars, Autobot, and, as I like to say, knock yourself out? Or better yet, why don't you open the cell? I promise I'll touch you back…"

Knock Out flinched, his head instinctively retreating when the canon of Arcee's blaster poked the spot right between his optics. It was good that honor and duty, the best part of her, was also still the strongest part of her.

"Is this touch good enough for you, Decepticon? Or do you prefer the warm caress of a plasma beam?"

He stepped back, his face showing his surprise. "You… you stupid femme! Do you think I find this amusing? There is a virus of unknown nature working its way inside of me!"

Arcee snorted. "What a coincidence. I happen to have the same problem, and yet my priority is not engaging my enemy in a sick game."

"Oh, but you are part of the game, Autobot! How else should I interpret your presence here? You need me close as much as I, Unicron damns me, need you!" he spat, struggling so much with his handcuffs that for a moment Arcee was sure he would break them. "I don't know what this slagging virus does, but I know for certain that dividing it in two will do nothing but shut us off. The composition of the virus changes by the minute, and I'm sure the extension of its damage does too."

That was true. Ratchet had said that the nanomites had mutated. Whatever Knock Out had inside him must have gone through a similar process.

"Do you see why your joke of a doctor won't be able to do anything to find a cure?" he continued, almost roaring. "The invading agent will do everything but remain motionless. I don't think I have to make clear the fact that it's making its way beyond our simple main circuitry. Now tell me, femme, what do you think it will take for it to reach our sparks?"

Arcee returned her blaster to subspace. "More than it will take for me to blast you in the face if you continue with your rambling. I have no issue with sending you to meet your maker, you have my word on it. As far as I know, Ratchet can extract a sample from your fuel lines whether they are running or not."

He opened his mouth in amazement, making Arcee feel a strange mixture of satisfaction and guilt. Could it be that he had been pretending too, that his apparent self-security had been nothing but a farce?

She guessed she would never know, as the door of the brig opened and Bulkhead came in. He looked both surprised and displeased to find Arcee there.

"It's time," he said, rather coldly.

Arcee decided to play it safe and simply nod. What else could she have done, or said, when her own blasted processor was becoming her worst enemy?

_To be continued._

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><p><em>Once again, I apologize for leaving you guys waiting for so long. Would it help if I tell you that I have the next two chapters already written? Well, I do have them, and I plan to post them soon.<em>

_Please review if you liked._


	8. Enemy is just another word for enema

_The truth is that I could have posted this chapter sooner, but I couldn't find the time to add the final details before sending it to my beta reader. Eventually I did, though, and now I have two more complete chapters ready to go. Yeah, two._

_But before going there, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Many thanks to my beta reader iratepirate for taking care of my grammar mistakes. I don't know what I would do without ya sis :o)_

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

**Enemy is just another word for enema**

Knock Out had always found the use of restraints on his interface partners arousing, but as he was taken unceremoniously through the corridor, on his back and strapped to a stretcher, he decided that, when the restraints were applied on him, it was definitely a zero fun situation.

And absolutely not stylish either. It was fortunate that the Autobots had no mirrors on their ceiling as he had in his own quarters; he was sure that being a prisoner wouldn't make him look any more handsome.

He wasn't scared, though. Being a Decepticon had many advantages, one of them being the certainty that Autobots didn't torture their prisoners or killed them just for amusement. That alone was a big win in his dictionary, considering that he had taken care of interrogation duty himself many times in the past and he knew exactly how – and in how many pieces – a war prisoner could end up. In his experience, the best questions were the ones asked with drills and saws.

"Careful, you oaf!" he complained when a protrusion on the floor caused the stretcher to bounce, and thus his head to bang against the surface. Bulkhead completely ignored him.

_You beast… _Knock Out thought. He didn't know much about Breakdown's sworn enemy, only that he was too ugly and that whoever was responsible for his paintjob deserved to be executed. To be honest, Knock Out had never given two frags about Bulkhead, but he supposed that the open animosity the fat and hideous Autobot had towards him had to do with being Breakdown's partner.

He tried to look backwards before realizing what he was doing, and hated himself for it. As all Cybertronians, Knock Out was magnet-proof, his body forged with the special alloy that protected the sons of Primus from the only curse of their metallic bodies. Still, he was certain that his own personal – and accursed – magnet was not far behind. He could feel it. He could feel _her._

He was sure that he had nothing but contempt toward that Autobot, and yet her absence had proved to be utterly uncomfortable. Only her proximity was able to calm the disturbing thing boiling through his fuel lines, and that was as frustrating as it was intriguing. What had happened between him and the Autobot some breems ago still bothered him. It wasn't the disturbing feeling or _not_ wanting to dissect her that was troubling him, but the realization that he had no control over such thoughts. Whoever had designed that accursed virus that ran through his and the Autobot's systems would have made a perfect Decepticon.

And his problems didn't stop there. Why did life have to be so complicated? He was charming all right, but sometimes fate insisted on showing him its ugliest face. Things would have been perfect had his plan worked: he would have the beautiful, severed head of the Autobot female in his laboratory, ready to be stripped to its basic components and thus to the composition of her half of the virus. But the coin had flipped in the wrong way, and it was _he_ the one on his way to being used as a test subject. Once again, it was the kind of scenario he would have loved had he been the one holding the scalpels.

"Argh!" he complained again when Bulkhead insisted on demonstrating his poor handling of the stretcher. "For your information, you micro-brained scum bucket, being a little careful won't make your face look uglier!"

Bulkhead didn't respond, unless being even rougher could be consider a response. His tiny blue optics were staring ahead, and for some reason he was very upset.

Knock Out decided to review his first assumption about not being afraid when the double doors hissed open and he saw the repair berth waiting for him.

_Uh-oh…_ Now he understood what his prisoners – and patients – felt when they were introduced to his dissection table. But at least they had the blessing of seeing something beautiful on their way to unbearable pain. He didn't; all that he had was a bunch of unfriendly, scratched Autobots waiting to put their servos inside his internals.

Knock Out had always been a very sincere robot, although he reserved that part of his personality only to himself. For example, he never had had any problem admitting that he was a coward when his survival or his finish – almost in the same order – were at stake.

"Wait! What are you going to do to me?" he honored his cowardice. "Wait, slag it! Do you have the slightest idea of how long it took me to get this wax job done?"

The yellow scout beeped scornfully at him.

"_Break my nails?"_ Knock Out repeated, struggling with his ties. "I'll make sure to show you just how sharp my _talons _are when I tear off your face plates!"

Optimus Prime stood out. "Ratchet, proceed with the examination. The faster we finish this, the better."

Now that was a rude attitude. Knock Out decided that Optimus Prime had a set of beautiful tires, but that was all concerning his attractiveness. "Examination? Is this how you righteous Autobots treat your guests? I am offended!"

The restraints clicked open, but before he could try anything, Bulkhead grabbed him by the neck and lifted him as if he were a toy. Knock Out grabbed his hands and kicked him in the chest in an attempt to release himself, but it was no use. If at least he had had his Energon prod, then he would teach some manners to that loathsome trash compactor…

"Put him on the repair berth, Bulkhead," the Autobot doctor ordered coldly. _Doctor? _If anything, that old model could only qualify as junk. Knock Out couldn't understand why the Autobots hadn't melted him eons ago.

Bulkhead deposited Knock Out on the repair berth, although thrown down would have been a better term to describe the action. He hit the metallic surface so hard that his optical sensors had a partial loss of vision for some astro-kliks. They hadn't returned to optimal function yet when his arms and legs were already being shackled to the berth.

"These things are too tight! I swear it, if my paint job gets scratched, I'll—"

"Do you ever shut up?" Bulkhead growled, grabbing him by the helmet with a vice-like grip.

"Bulkhead, we will avoid the use of excessive force," Optimus Prime said calmly, as if his big lackey hadn't been crushing Knock Out's helmet. Still, the dumb oaf released him.

"Did you ever think about _asking_ for my cooperation instead of forcing it?" Knock Out said, directing his angry gaze toward the Autobot leader. "I happen to have the same need for the complete composition of this virus!"

"You didn't seem very cooperative when you set Arcee up."

Knock Out turned his head toward his left, where three humans were watching from a near platform. The one that had spoken was a young male, Arcee's pet if he recalled correctly. The slim female that had photographed him was at his side. The third, small one to the right of the female seemed too insignificant to capture his interest.

"Only as a response to your own devious ambush," he retorted. "Or did you really think that I had bought the obvious trap you posted for me on that human forum? Please!"

"Is there a chance to shut him off before starting to open him up, Ratchet?"

"Not without affecting his flow of energy. We need him conscious."

"Can we at least deactivate his vocalizer? I can always silence him the old-fashioned way…" the green beast continued his rant, shaking his huge fist before Knock Out's face.

Knock Out found that remark highly offensive, even more than the fist threatening his handsome face plates. He had the most attractive voice of the entire Cybertronian race – and beyond, he was sure. But then again, there wasn't a part of him that wasn't perfect.

"What I said about avoiding the use of excessive force was completely serious, Bulkhead," Optimus Prime said severely before addressing the prisoner. "Knock Out, you were brought here because we need samples of the virus the humans infected you with. We have no intentions to damage you whatsoever."

"Correction: I was brought here _without_ my consent. As for the samples, I would have appreciated a different approach rather that the masquerade you staged to capture me. In case you forgot, it's also in my best interests to find a cure to this virus."

The yellow scout chirped.

"Because I am a scientist, you dim-witted gasketroid! And far better than this rusted junk piece you call a doctor!"

That only gained him a laser scalpel applied on the inside of his elbow joint. It wasn't very painful, but pretty invading, and a firm reminder that he was about to be stripped down.

"Hey!" he directed his rage toward Ratchet. "Be careful with that! I know you're not used to it, but you're dealing with a first class assembly job."

Ratchet looked like he would prefer to be nursing Unicron than being there. That pleased Knock Out somehow, even though he knew, by his patients' experience, that it was not a good idea to mess with a physician.

His suspicions were confirmed when the laser scalpel deviated two micro-millimeters and caused a slight, yet disturbing scratch on his arm. The fragger had done that on purpose!

"Ouch!" he growled. "How dare you? Do you have any idea of what it took me to get that exact tone of red?"

It was as if his torturer hadn't listened. The armor of his arm was opened and Ratchet started to connect small fuel extractors to his exposed circuitry.

Knock Out decided to try a different approach. "Look, colleague… there's no need to go this far. I'm sure we can reach an understanding. I'm a physician myself. Release me from these shackles and—"

"_Colleague?"_ Ratchet spat, finally addressing him. "I am no colleague of yours, you maniac. I'm a doctor, saving lives is my priority. Whatever labor you do is that of a butcher."

Knock Out grimaced. How dare that ancient piece call him a butcher? It was true that he loved to dissect his victims, but that was his art. The secrets of the universe were hidden in the infinite parts in which a living mechanism could be divided. Pain and science couldn't exist on their own.

He snorted. "Butcher? But of course, how could an old fashioned antique like you understand the beauty of modern science?"

"The beauty of modern science is that it values life, a concept that you could never understand, Decepticon," said a voice that could have competed with his concerning perfect harmonics.

The Autobot female stood out between her ugly comrades-in-arms the moment she stepped in; Knock Out could have sworn she had some sort of halo around her. The thing that displeased him was that she was frowning. She was _always _frowning.

He was out of words. Seeing her only brought back to his memory banks the moment in which he had been so close to kissing her. It seemed that the damn image would torture him for eternity.

Still, having her back in his line of vision was comforting. He had no doubt that she had chosen to keep her distance, but at some point she had felt the need to get closer. Of course, Knock Out would have preferred other reasons for her proximity than some alien virus. He knew that he was irresistible, but terrestrial chemicals acting within his frame was not precisely the reason he was looking for to increase his charm.

She was so close now that he could feel her energy field softly caressing his. His reaction was so subtle that at first he didn't notice, but a familiar tingle inside his chest plates announced that the unwanted invader had made contact and was creating a physical, _intimate_ response. The warm feeling even managed to make him forget for a moment that five of his fuel lines were currently being drained.

"Any initial results, Ratchet?"

The Prime's serene, boring voice would have normally broken the momentum, but the increasing hum inside Knock Out forced him to stay behind the thin line between him and the Autobot female. Her eyes were staring at him severely, but yet he could see her inner struggle. They were both victims of the same curse, one that devoured them and turned their enmity into a joke. It was very confusing that his rational mind couldn't put his anxious spark in place. He hated what the sight of that loathed, beautiful femme was doing to him, but at the same time there was a part of him that was not displeased at all. There was a part of him that wanted her close. Her energy field so close to his wasn't enough. He wanted to feel her frame again, trembling beneath him as she couldn't control herself…

The momentum, though, was finally broken when the rusted Autobot doctor started to apply his laser scalpel on Knock Out's chest plates.

"And just what the slag do you think you're doing? That's my private zone down there!" he snapped, returning to his previous mood.

Ratchet paid no attention to him and continued his job. It was one thing to have a couple of his fuel lines drained, but to expose certain parts of his physiology that for certain reasons he was very interested in keeping covered…

"I can understand the joy of humiliating an enemy, but is this the way you Autobots protect your youngsters? In case you haven't noticed, there are children present!" he attempted his last resort, giving a nod towards the three humans staring from the platform.

"He's right," Optimus Prime said, turning to the sacks of flesh. "Jack, Miko, Raf, proceed to the common room. We will summon you once Ratchet finishes."

"Aaw, but Optimus…" the female complained, already with her pink communications device in hand.

"No further discussion, Miko. As much as Knock Out is our enemy, we have no right to act against his privacy. Go. Bumblebee will keep you company."

_Privacy,_ really? And wasn't being opened up in front of a pathetic lot of Autobots an invasion of his privacy as well? That was not what worried him, though, but what was about to be revealed. Despise the needs the invading virus was directing right to the core of his spark, he wished the Autobot female would step back, even if just a little. Perhaps that would be enough…

But time and his own slagging mech-hood were definitely not on his side, because once Bumblebee escorted the humans out, Knock Out found that not a cyber-inch –literally– of his predicament had changed.

When his chest plates were opened and his spark chamber exposed, well… he just wished he was somewhere else.

Ratchet stared for a moment before grimacing with disgust. Knock Out had definitely had better reactions concerning the display of his awakened intimate circuitry.

"I should have guessed you are the kind of freak that would consider this arousing, you sick pervert!" Bulkhead spat, grabbing him by the neck and once again threatening to punch him.

Despite the risk of losing the smoothness of his face plates, Knock Out managed to turn his head toward the massive Autobot. "If I do, it's certainly not because of you, or this old model for that matter!"

He was going to include Optimus Prime in his rant when he found the blue optics that belonged to the cause and consequence of all his current problems. She diverted her gaze, apparently indifferent to what she had provoked, but Knock Out, as well as the virus, knew better.

"If you like to get your servos inside others' intimate circuitry so much, why don't you try it with your naughty little femme, Autobots? I'm sure her arousal could compete with mine!"

The shackle restraining his left arm creaked when Bulkhead tightened his grip on his neck and raised him from the repair berth slightly.

"SHUT. UP."

Knock Out didn't even listen. More than embarrassed and frustrated, he was furious. He had had enough of Autobots touching him excessively and blue optics both torturing him and denying him.

"Why don't you tell them, _schöne Frau?_" he cooed to Arcee, who kept refusing to look at him. "Tell them what happened. Tell them the kind of kinky scum you really are, how much you wanted me to frag you senseless, you filthy joke of a pleasure bot—"

The world exploded into an ugly shade of green as a very intense pain triggered several alarms inside his cranial unit. Had the Universe just collapsed above him?

Then darkness came, again, rescuing him from both the pain and the accursed blue optics that he couldn't erase from his mind.

_To be continued._

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><p><em>Sooo… now the question is: How soon do you want me to update?<em>

_Let's do this. I'll update one of my other fics and I will get back to this one right after. I don't know… like in a couple of weeks?_

_Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter. See ya!_


	9. The other doctor's opinion

_Remember that I promised a fast update? Surprise surprise, I did this time! Thanks to iratepirate for correcting my grammar so fast and make it possible for me to post today._

_Enjoy :o)_

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

**The other doctor's opinion**

Defeat was always a bad thing.

It tasted twice as bitter if it was inflicted by Bulkhead, the Autobot that Breakdown hated the most. They both had a very long history on the battlefield, so much so that they had reached the tacit agreement of considering themselves sworn enemies. For vorns, neither of them had cheated on the other in that respect, and every time they met they honored their relationship, the only rule being to try and snatch the spark out of the other's chamber.

Prior to his arrival on Earth, Breakdown had won most of those encounters, but the inopportune intervention of the Autobots had prevented him from finishing the job. He didn't mind much, though; a war with Bulkhead to fight with was a more interesting war. During the vorns, almost killing or getting killed by his most hated nemesis had given some purpose to Breakdown's own war, rather than just the mindless destruction most of his comrades-in-arms loved to label as their cause.

So having lost to Bulkhead was not the problem; having lost Knock Out was. It had sounded so simple at the beginning. _"Let the Autobots believe I fell into their trap and __voilà__, we zap the female and extract the other half of the virus from her deactivated body."_

Yeah, quite simple, only that neither he nor Knock Out thought that the whole Autobot team would be there. More than the hits inflicted by both Bulkhead and Optimus Prime, what hurt Breakdown the most was the fact that he had returned to operational status alone, accompanied only by the certainty that his partner was being stripped down at that precise moment.

Hopefully Knock Out would survive… _hopefully_. The Autobots were not keen on offlining their prisoners, although the possibility existed that Bulkhead could make an exception in order to pay back some of the harm Breakdown had inflicted on him in the past. If that happened, Breakdown would make sure to avenge his friend, hunting Bulkhead through the entire Universe if necessary and dissecting him into as many pieces as Knock Out said a body could be dissected into.

"Breakdown."

Just the voice he didn't want to hear, not at that moment in which he was still furious and at high risk of disregarding ranks and slagging a certain arrogant, unnerving Commander Starscream.

He turned around, frowning at the two red slots that watched him from the shadows.

Oh, how he hated to be observed. Once, when his frame was considerably smaller and his strength was a joke, he had been paranoid. Now, many vorns later and when he could defeat ten mechs like the weakling he used to be, he managed to control his psychosis every time he felt somebody was staring at him. Still, the sight of Starscream's piercing optics was very annoying, and definitely not the kind of welcoming committee he was expecting after returning to the Nemesis… defeated. Somehow he had hoped to go unnoticed, but that was too much to ask when Starscream was sneaking around every corner.

"A little late to be returning from your reconnaissance mission," the raspy voice said, irony and mockery blatantly present.

_Don't you have something else to do other than spy on whatever slag the others are up to? _He would have loved to respond according to his mood, but there was one thing that Breakdown had always respected, and that was hierarchy.

"I lost track of time," he said curtly. That was a lie, an embarrassing lie; he had been offline for at least two breems thanks to Optimus Prime. Coward Bulkhead… he had needed the help of the Prime to take him down.

"I'd say that time was not the only thing you lost." Starscream stepped into the light, pointing toward Breakdown's marred chest plates.

The big Decepticon gave a disdainful look to the scorch marks and dents on his frame. "I found opposition."

"Autobot opposition, I presume."

_Aren't you a genius, you scrawny piece of junk? _"Is there any other kind?"

Starscream seemed not to like the answer, because his malicious optics narrowed again. "Why didn't you report the incident? You know there is a protocol to follow."

_I would have followed it, but I was too busy being in stasis lock! _"I was about to do it now."

Starscream folded his arms behind his back and gave the big Decepticon a very scrutinizing look. Breakdown was sure that he was doing it only to disturb him. Starscream was one of the few mechs that knew exactly the kind of paranoid mech Breakdown had been – or still was?

"Oh, spare me. I'm not in the mood to stand another of your torturously-written reports, Breakdown, especially if it will be as full of lies as it will of spelling errors. So what do you say if we avoid the protocol this once and you tell me exactly what I want to know? Where is Knock Out?"

As Knock Out himself would have said: uh-oh.

Breakdown was not really afraid of what Starscream's sharp talons could do to his grille, but he knew that it was not a good idea to fill the Air Commander with the whole truth. Starscream was a devious creature, always looking for anything he could use to his advantage.

"Well, um, have you checked in the medbay?"

Wrong answer, again. Starscream could be a traitorous glitch, but he was no fool, that was for sure.

Breakdown couldn't help but lean backwards when the Second in Command reduced the distance between them. Sizes didn't matter at that point; the fragging slime ball _was _intimidating.

"WHERE IS KNOCK OUT?"

_Okay, I got it. You won't repeat it again. _"Mm… I don't really know."

Well, that wasn't exactly a lie. Of course, there were very few places the Autobots could have taken his partner rather than their base, but Breakdown hadn't been conscious to see it, so technically he was telling the truth.

His audio modules cringed when the screeching, extremely annoying sound of Starscream's talons scratching the wall broke the peaceful hum of the Nemesis. If walls could talk, that one would scream. A lot.

"Let's rewind and see if we can find the missing part in the equation, shall we?" Starscream outlined two circles beneath the deep gash he had created. "Wherever Knock Out goes, Breakdown follows. Whatever Knock Out decides, Breakdown approves. Whatever Knock Out says, Breakdown does… Should I continue, _Breakdown?"_

Frag, how in the Inferno could such a weak creature have such sharp talons? Breakdown was sure that those talons could even trespass his reinforced armor.

_Yeah, you forgot the 'Whenever Knock Out gets ambushed by Autobots, Breakdown will be there to smash them to junk'. _But he didn't dare to voice his thoughts, not only because Starscream would laugh about his loyalty to his friend, but because he had failed Knock Out. He had allowed the Autobots to capture him.

So he rolled his optics instead. "We both were ambushed by the Autobots. They took Knock Out with them."

"They did?" Starscream narrowed one optic, showing that the information was not taking him by surprise at all. At least he removed his fraggin' talons from the wall. "And why would they do that, I wonder? If engaging the enemy in order to take them into custody had been their purpose, why didn't they capture you as well?"

Just how much did Starscream know about the whole virus affair? _Everything, _one of Breakdown's inner voices replied. _He knows everything, and he has a hundred zillion cameras pointing at you all the time._

No… he had to stop. He couldn't afford to lose himself to his paranoia, not at that moment.

"I suppose they needed… a sample of that substance Knock Out found."

"The virus, you mean? The virus which Knock Out himself was infected with?"

Why? Why, by Unicron's horns, did Starscream have to play his sick games all the fraggin' time? There was no wonder why half of the Decepticon army wanted him dead. The other half just feared him. Breakdown still had to decide which side he belonged to.

"If you knew the whole thing, what's the point of this charade?"

Breakdown must have talked more menacingly than intended because for a moment Starscream seemed to cringe. However, he reduced the space between them again and resumed his game.

"I would advise you to be careful with the way you address a superior officer, Breakdown, especially if said superior officer happens to be your Commander."

And future Lord, he was sure Starscream was dying to say. But that would never happen; the only Lord of all Decepticons still functioned, and functional he would remain, Breakdown was sure. Knock Out had said a lot of things about not having been able to deactivate Megatron because of Soundwave's constant surveillance, but Breakdown knew better. He knew that his friend had had plenty of opportunities to put Megatron down permanently, but the doctor was also playing with Starscream. Why couldn't things be like they used to be, when the Decepticons fought as one against the threat of the Autobots? Those were the good, simple times. These days it was all about treachery and power struggles.

"My apologies… _Commander_," he finally said, trying to ease the tension a bit, even though he knew the worst was about to come.

Starscream eyed him suspiciously before signaling to follow him. "I understand that Knock Out examined the sample of the virus the same day he was infected."

"Yeah, I guess he did."

"And I suppose that you, his assistant and –yuck– _friend_ are aware of the results of that examination."

"Not really."

Breakdown hurried to elaborate when Starscream stopped and turned to stare at him again. "I'm not the scientist type, okay? I wouldn't have understood a bit."

One of Starscream's optic brows did that annoying movement before he resumed his pace through the corridor with his hands folded behind his back. "Yes, I suppose you wouldn't have… But still, Knock Out must have told you something."

"No, only that he suspected that his half of the virus was the carrier of something else, _Technicalties_, mostly. I didn't understand—"

"Half of the virus?" Starscream sounded so threatening that Breakdown forgot that he had mispronounced a word, as he did every time he got nervous.

_Stupid, stupid frag-head, you just told him everything!_ "Um, the Autobot female. She…"

_Breakdown, you're a lost cause!_

"Yes, Knock Out mentioned something about that." Starscream grabbed his chin, finally seeming more interested in the theme of the conversation than continuing to torture Breakdown. "If he felt it so urgent to retrieve the genetic information of the part of the virus the Autobot is carrying, that means that he must have started to experience the effects of his own half… perhaps a mutation."

Now that word managed to make Breakdown feel a hint of the foreign impulse others called fear. He had seen Knock Out having an attack caused by that thing, his body so cold and his vital functions so unstable that Breakdown had feared the worst… Yeah, _feared._

Was that the time to come absolutely clean? There was not much he could do on his own to help his friend, and slagger or not, Starscream was actually a scientist.

"Em, Knock Out had a weird episode yesterday. Would that be because the virus mutated?"

Starscream stopped dead in his tracks again. Breakdown didn't notice and almost knocked him down when he hit him on the helm with his chest plates.

"_What?" _Starscream shrieked, rubbing his sore forehead before addressing Breakdown again. "Why didn't you fools inform me about that?"

"Knock Out said it wasn't a big deal."

"Oh, but it was a big deal, you gigantic dolt! Do you realize what could have happened if that virus had spread through the Nemesis?"

"Knock Out said that the virus wasn't contagious."

"_Knock Out this, Knock out that…" _Starscream mimicked him. "Would it be so difficult to think by yourself for once in your life, Breakdown? It's obvious that Knock Out was covering his own hide. He perfectly knew what would happen to anybody who jeopardized the integrity of this ship and its crew."

Yeah, Knock Out knew that, and so did Breakdown. Although, to be honest, he didn't give a frag if the entire Nemesis got infected. He wouldn't jettison his friend to space no matter who ordered it.

"You are lucky that I'm in need of Knock Out – and of you, blast me," Starscream continued, not giving Breakdown time to think about a proper, violent answer.

They arrived at a small room with a computer terminal, which Starscream wasted no time in activating.

"This is a serious affair, Breakdown. You and Knock Out violated at least seven high-security directives, jeopardizing not only this ship but our entire mission on this planet. As Commanding Officer of the Nemesis and Supreme Commander of the Decepticon Empire – in absence of our beloved Lord Megatron, of course – I have the authority to execute whatever measures I see fit, such as, for example, court-martialing you and ordering your termination."

Breakdown didn't say anything. He knew he could end up in a lava pit if the rules were followed by the book, but he was more worried about Knock Out than his own fate.

"However," Starscream continued as he agilely punched some keys on the console, "I may be able to dismiss the matter, provided you offer your absolute cooperation, of course."

Right on time, there was the part in which Breakdown was forced to become Starscream's pawn, not to mention slave.

He sighed. Being Knock Out's best buddy didn't pay most of the time, but he couldn't help it; he really cared about the fraggin' doctor. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"The same thing you have been dying to do since the Autobots handed you your aft on a plate: retrieve Knock Out."

At least they agreed on that, although Breakdown was sure that their motives were completely different.

Starscream pushed a button and a hologram that Breakdown didn't understand a bit was displayed. "Despite having very little information about the composition of this virus, I am certain that it was designed to attack cybernetic circuitry. The sudden division of its organic composition must have caused a mutation of incalculable proportions, but yet I can assure you that this virus, when whole, must be able to completely deactivate a Cybertronian."

Yeah, and not just any Cybertronian._ Now I see where you're going, aft-hole. You infect Megatron with the slaggin' thing and let the humans take the blame. Sweet._

Starscream smirked. "Which makes the task of retrieving Knock Out twice as urgent, and there, Breakdown, is where you enter the game."

"But how do I find him? It's not like you can find the Autobot base in the yellow pages."

The odd look that Starscream gave him reminded Breakdown that he should stop watching human television.

"There is a way to find him without the need of tracking his energy signal or searching in… yellow pages." The image that appeared on the screen made Starscream's intent explicitly clear, as much as Breakdown disapproved of that kind of filthy antics.

Three human germs, all so disgusting with their tiny soft bodies and that fiber helmet over their heads. Breakdown remembered the female, the one that definitely didn't know how to fetch.

"Get any of these humans and the Autobots will hand Knock Out to us and whatever else we tell them. If Megatron has been fool enough not to take advantage of Optimus Prime's biggest weakness, I am not."

Hunting down worms was not exactly the kind of labor that made Breakdown proud, but if the reward was getting Knock Out back, he was willing to soil his hands.

"You got it," he said, heading towards the exit. "I'll find those humans no matter where they hide."

"Oh, and Breakdown?"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"There is a deadline. Make sure to return with those humans before three solar cycles, or you and Knock Out will regret it."

Breakdown narrowed his optics. "Is that a threat, Commander?"

"Of course it is a threat, but not one coming from me, but from your dear friend's worst enemy: time." Starscream replaced the image of the humans with the hologram that was displayed before. "I managed to decode Knock Out's initial analysis, and I came to the conclusion that the virus is not only mutating, but overriding his auto-repair circuits. In words you can understand, if Knock Out doesn't get a cure soon, he will die."

_FEAR! FEAR! FEAR! _His inner voices cried in unison.

Breakdown couldn't do anything other than agree with them as a cold chill traveled through his main core.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>If you have read any of my other TFP fics, you must have noticed that I like to blink to G1 Breakdown, who was paranoid and also used to mispronounce words.<em>

_I also gave a blink to the first time we saw Breakdown in the series and tried to play fetch with Miko. I absolutely loved that scene._

_Next chapter is ready, so expect it here very soon._


	10. The love doctor is in session

**Chapter 10**

**The love doctor is in session**

Miko gave a criticizing look to the drawing on her notebook before emphasizing some lines, paying special attention to the broad hand leaning on the small shoulder.

"Did you get to solve that problem?" Jack asked her without separating his gaze from the book he was reading.

"I gave up on trigonometry an hour ago." Once again she frowned at her second sketch of the day. She had captured Bulkhead's kind expression the first try, but giving Arcee a tender face was proving to be a challenge. The bouquet of roses, though, had turned out perfect. Miko wondered if some sort of metallic flowers could be found on Cybertron.

"I figured," Jack sighed, pretty clueless to her thoughts. "Do you need help with your homework? I wasn't the best in my class last year, but maybe Raf can give you a hand."

Raf detached his attention from the screen of his laptop and looked at his friends. "Em, sure, but I thought you were already comfortable with polar coordinates, Miko."

Miko snorted. "How can you talk about polar coordinates when we're experiencing such a big tragedy?"

"Tragedy?"

"Duh, yeah! The whole Arcee thing, Raf!"

"I wouldn't call it a tragedy. Ratchet's initial analysis of the virus samples is promising. I'm sure he will have a cure soon. Besides, he made it very clear that Arcee's life is not in immediate danger."

Miko rolled her eyes and turned to look at Jack. "I'm not surprised you didn't notice anything because you're only thirteen, Raf, but what about you, Jack? Arcee is your partner. Of course you must have noticed!"

"I'm thirteen and a quarter—" Raf started to complain, but Miko wouldn't leave Jack alone now that she had made him lower his book.

"Come on. You saw them, right? The sparks flying between her and that Knock Out dude… Didn't she tell you anything about it?"

Jack closed his eleventh grade literature book. "I didn't see any… sparks flying as you say. Besides, I would never ask Arcee any question that involved her private life, especially one that is based only on fantasies, Miko," he said seriously.

"Fantasies? There was chemistry between them, Jack! What do you say, Raf? You're the genius here.

The younger boy adjusted his glasses nervously. "Eh, I wouldn't know about that…"

Miko snorted again. "Of course, you're just thirteen… _and_ a guy. What do you guys know about love? You're like the dumbest thing on the planet!"

She frowned and folded her arms across her chest. Really, she was convinced that the world would be a better place if guys were more in contact with their feelings.

Jack closed his book. "I think you're taking this far out of proportion. I know Arcee, and aside from the fact that she has never shown any kind of romantic interests toward anybody, she wouldn't do it for a Decepticon that is famous for dissecting his victims."

"Besides, that examination session in the medical bay didn't end on the best terms, considering that for some reason Optimus sent Bulkhead out," Raf said timidly. "I don't know what happened after we left, but I'm sure it had nothing to do with… whatever it is that you're thinking."

Miko frowned. Were Jack and Raf really that dumb? "Do those glasses work for something other than slipping down your nose, Raf? Bulk was kicked out of the medbay because he punched the Decepticon. And do you have any idea why he did that? Because he was jealous!"

"Wait, wait…" Jack said, standing up. "Miko, this is not a love movie. We are talking about real life here… and about the Transformers. We don't even know if there is anything resembling romantic interactions in their culture. We have never seen any of the Autobots behaving in any way that suggests that."

"Duuh! Because most of them are guys, Jack!"

"Well, technically speaking, we could say that they are androgynous," Raf said.

"Can we return to the main point here?" Miko said, putting her hands on her hips. "It's more than obvious than Bulk has a thing for Arcee, and I think she's not exactly indifferent toward him. But now that Knock Out comes here and makes a mess!"

"Arcee… and Bulkhead?" Raf put his laptop aside.

Miko rolled her eyes. "For a whiz kid, you're pretty blind when it comes to some things, Raf. Haven't you two noticed how close they both are? They are like an old married couple. They hang out, they complete each other's sentences…"

"I insist that you're confusing things," Jack said. "I know Arcee and she has never shown any kind of romantic interest in Bulkhead or anybody else."

"You may know your partner, Jack, but I know mine too, and I can tell you for sure that Bulk _is_ jealous."

"That would explain why Bulkhead was expelled from Knock Out's examination," Raf suggested. "When I asked Bumblebee, he also said something about Bulkhead… er, physically offlining the Decepticon."

The 'not-you-too-Raf' look that Jack shot at his friend only helped to increase Miko's energy. "That's right!" she said, punching the palm of her hand. "And that's why we have to intervene."

Raf looked very confused. "Intervene? In what?"

"In getting Bulk and Arcee together! What else?"

"Count me out," Jack said, getting up. "I'm not going to play Love Doctor with Arcee; I respect her too much to get involved in her personal life. Besides, I'm sure that everything you said is completely out of proportion, not to mention out of reality."

Miko shrugged her shoulders and turned toward Raf. "What about you, Raf? You'll help me, right?"

Raf seemed to notice that he had stepped on the edge of a very deep chasm and returned to his laptop. "I… uh, no… Sorry, Miko, but I think Jack's right."

The girl frowned. "Of course… What could I expect for you both? You _are _guys!" She turned around and started to descend the human sized stairs that Ratchet had adapted for them.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Jack asked her.

"To solve this once and for all. Thanks for your help, you two! No wonder why neither of you has a girlfriend!"

* * *

><p>Miko hadn't known Bulkhead for long, but she felt like she had known him for her entire life. She could tell his mood even by the slightest movement of his gigantic body, although even a boulder would have noticed that throwing containers from one side of the room to the other was not exactly a display of a happy Bulkhead.<p>

"Bulk, hey Bulk!" she greeted him.

When he didn't react and instead flung another container the same way he would do with an enemy, Miko thought it would be proper to elevate her voice.

"BULKHEAD!"

He heard her this time, stopping in the middle of adding a new container to the pile.

"Oh, Miko… Is it time to take you home already?"

"Not until Raf finishes my homework. I came to see if you needed help playing Tetris with those containers."

Bulkhead sighed, his face acquiring the expression of a frustrated puppy. "No, I can do just fine with the… task that Ratchet assigned me."

Miko had no doubt that said 'task' was some sort of punishment for the way Bulkhead had behaved in the medbay. "Yeah, I can see that. You threw that last one like you did that Vehicon the other day. You almost brought down the entire pile."

"I did?" Bulkhead asked, seeming to shrink a bit. "I was distracted, I guess… I'll be more careful."

And he was, as he actually placed the next container instead of crashing it. Still, Miko could tell that his uneasiness was far from being gone.

She climbed on a small box to her left and sat on the edge, carefully watching how her best friend in the whole world kept mangling Ratchet's precious whatever was in those containers. Certainly the Autobot medic would need that, sooner or later.

"Arcee will be okay, right?" she asked after some seconds of nothing but metal against metal breaking the silence. "I mean, Ratchet will find out what that virus is all about and find a cure."

"Yeah," Bulkhead said, apparently absent-mindedly, but he could never fool Miko. "He will find a cure."

Miko swung her legs a little more before continuing her endless quest to satisfy her curiosity. "What about that Knock Out dude? Will you release him once you're done with him?"

The next container fell on the second pile with more force than required. "He's a Decepticon, Miko. He will be kept in custody and judged for his crimes."

"Oh, do you guys actually do those things too? With judges, jury and the whole thing?"

"We have a legal system."

"And when do you plan to judge him?" Miko insisted. "I thought that Cybertron was kind of, uh, unavailable right now. Will Optimus be the judge? Can Jack, Raf and I be part of the jury? Will Knock Out be allowed to have a lawyer? You're not going to execute him, right?"

Bulkhead sighed and placed the current container upside down. "I don't know, Miko… I used to work in construction before being a Wrecker. I must know the same about our legal system as you do."

Miko twisted her mouth. Any answer that left her with more curiosity than the one she had before was always the wrong answer. Still, she realized she wouldn't get more information from Bulkhead concerning that matter.

"Hey Bulk, do you Autobots fall in love?" she dropped her bomb, pleased with the puzzled expression she caused on the big robot's face.

"W-what…?"

"I know you guys have emotions as we do, so I guess you fall in love too, right? Did you have a girlfriend back on Cybertron?"

Maybe Transformers and humans were more alike than Miko had thought, because she could have sworn that the color of his face grew a little bit red.

"Girlfriend…? Nno…"

"Or a boyfriend?" she insisted, winking. "Raf says that technically you guys are androgynous, so you wouldn't have some prejudices a lot of silly humans have… But not me! So, you can tell me."

"Miko, I was a construction robot. Back before the war I used to spend my days working and recharging. I had no time for… those things."

"Aw, come on! Does that mean you didn't even have dates? Gee, I started dating when I was fourteen!" That was true, although Miko hadn't dated much during the next two years because for some reason guys seemed to think she was too weird.

Bulkhead shot her a pleading look. That was certainly an uncomfortable thing to talk about, so she decided to reroute the target of her conversation, if only to spare her friend from more awkward moments.

"What about Arcee? Did she date somebody?"

But awkward moments continued to be in order, as Bulkhead's expression promptly revealed.

"Arcee? Uh, well…" he said, scratching his head.

Miko closed her eyes and shook her hands before her face in denial. "Okay, okay, private issue there, right? You don't have to tell me… I mean, you and I are best buddies, but I guess you have to protect the secrets of your other friends too."

The Autobots were very protective about their intimate issues, that's why Miko – sometimes – tried not to dig too much into their private matters, but she was sure she had seen a tingle of sadness in Arcee's always hard face. She knew that Jack had noticed it too, but he had been discrete enough not to wonder about his partner's past. Miko, being in love with romance, liked to take things to a more interesting level and wondered if Arcee had loved somebody, somebody that she probably had lost.

"Well, I bet she did. She is very beautiful, and she certainly knows how to kick some serious ass!"

Bulkhead didn't reply. He seemed too busy analyzing whether he should start the next pile to the right or the left part of the room.

"Don't you agree, Bulk? Don't you think Arcee is beautiful?"

"Mm, what?" he said in the worst display of fake indifference Miko had ever seen. "Yeah, I guess she is."

"Have you ever thought about asking her out?"

Bulkhead dropped the container in his hands, turning to look at Miko as if she were the reincarnation of Unicron.

"What?! Asking her… Miko, what are you talking about?"

"I'm only saying that you should ask her on a date. She's very pretty, you are very cute yourself… Why not? You'd make a lovely couple. Besides, I have noticed how you look at her."

Miko never thought she would see Bulkhead's legs turning into two pillars of jelly. But that's exactly what happened, as they failed to sustain him and he fell flat on his aft, making Miko jump with the impact.

"Whoa!" she said, landing gracefully on the floor. "How many tons do you weigh exactly, Bulk? I bet you're heavier than my house."

But Bulkhead didn't seem to hear to her. He was stuck in the past, exactly to five seconds ago.

"You… you noticed? But how…?"

"You're more obvious than you think, but don't worry. I don't think any of the other Autobots, including Arcee, is aware. I could tell because we're best pals. I know you, Bulk."

"Miko, this…" he said, harshly rubbing the right side of his face with his hand. "This is more complicated than you think, even less a simple game. I like Arcee, alright. She's a loyal and brave soldier, much stronger than she looks… But, but… _dates? _I have never… I mean I could never…"

Okay, it was starting to be disturbing seeing Bulkhead so messed up. Miko's innocent intentions quickly turned into real preoccupation. She hated when her friends suffered, especially when said friend was Bulkhead.

"Because of the war?" she asked carefully.

Bulkhead shook his head. "It goes beyond that. Arcee… well, she has never seen me like that, I'm sure. You said it yourself. She's very beautiful and I… Well, look at me."

"What do you mean 'look at me'? Let me tell you something, mister, you are one very handsome robot! Actually, if I were ten tons heavier and a bulldozer, I'd date you for sure."

"That's my best friend talking," he said, getting up and picking up the container he had dropped before, doing his best to also pick up the pieces of his dignity.

"Well, I know you are far more handsome than him!" Miko said, taking out her cell phone and opening it.

Bulkhead stepped toward her, looking at the picture of Knock Out displayed on the small screen. The anger displayed on his faceplates was quickly replaced with surprise.

"When did you take that?"

"Yesterday, right before his examination."

Bulkhead attempted to grab her phone, but since it was too small for his fingers, he grasped Miko instead and raised her up.

"Hey! I don't want to go home yet!" she complained.

"I'll take you home later. There's something in this picture that Ratchet _has_ to see!"

And they left, Bulkhead's legs once again made of steel.

_To be continued._

* * *

><p><em>Remember that weird photo session in chapter six? Now you'll see that I wasn't drunk when I wrote it. It had a purpose, and it will be revealed next chapter.<em>

_I'll try to post it as soon as I can. Please be a little patient with me, because there are a couple of my other stories that I want to update first. That doesn't mean I will neglect this one, promise._

_See you soon! Please remember to let me know your comments._


	11. Sparks flying around my head

_Sorry for have kept you waiting. I really wanted to update this story sooner, but you know how real life works. _

_Thanks and hugs to my dear friend and beta reader iratepirate, who always finds the time to revise my grammar._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

**Sparks flying around my head**

"It's definitely a mutation," Ratchet said as he analyzed the unique pattern of the energy signature displayed on the computer.

The dots aligned on the screen, illuminating Optimus Prime's serious face. "What kind of mutation?"

Ratchet manipulated the image and highlighted the blurry trail above Knock Out's head. "Still too vague to look for a match, but it's a start. And we have Megatron to thank for that."

From her place on Bulkhead's shoulder, Miko stood up. "Wait, time out!" she said, forming a T with her hands. "What do you mean by that?"

Optimus turned to her. "Miko, every Cybertronian frame emits certain energy readings that create a field; that's the way we are configured on the assembly line. However, the Decepticons are different. Megatron inversed the polarity of his soldiers' energy fields in order to make them different from us."

"Different?" Miko frowned. "As in stronger, uglier… crazier?"

"As in megalomaniacs that thought they had the right to alter their configuration only to prove themselves unique," Ratchet said bitterly. "When Megatron stated that he wanted to make the Decepticons a new breed of Cybertronians, he meant it."

"Oh…" Miko seemed confused. "And what's the deal with this field? Does it make the 'Cons bad guys or something?"

Optimus shook his head. "Benevolence and malevolence are entirely sentient choices. This field only makes the Decepticons' electrical integrity different from ours. It has no effect on their ethics or behavior."

"But it seems that it affected the virus both Arcee and Knock Out were infected with, or at least the way it interfaced with the Decepticon's energy readings." Ratchet turned to the picture displayed on the screen and pointed to the almost transparent aura over Knock Out's head. "When Knock Out was infected, his energy field reacted, creating an electromagnetic signature that hopefully left traces on the device that released the virus. If that's the case, we should be able to track it down."

From his place beside Optimus Prime, Bumblebee beeped.

"Beaten by a human camera?" Ratchet retorted, somehow angry. "I missed the signature because I was focusing on the subject's fuel lines, Bumblebee. How was I supposed to know that the key relied on the simplest thing of all, the Decepticon's energy field?"

"The most valuable lessons come from the simplest things," Optimus Prime said. "We must be humble and thank Miko for her invaluable assistance. All our investigations may have been destined for failure if the image files she took of Knock Out hadn't captured the electromagnetic interaction between his energy field and the virus."

Miko grinned and rotated her pink mobile like a cowboy would do a gun. "See? I knew you would appreciate my obsession with photography someday."

Bulkhead didn't seem to share the general enthusiasm. "Still, you put yourself in danger, Miko."

"Relax, Bulk," Miko said, making a dismissive gesture with her free hand. "Knock Out was chained and behind bars. What could have gone wrong? Besides, he was eager to pose. I bet you a billion yen that he has hit the catwalk before."

Optimus turned to the screen again. "What matters now is our progress in tracing this energy signature to its origin."

Bumblebee chimed quizzically.

Ratchet looked at him. "Yes, Bumblebee. That would be M.E.C.H.'s headquarters."

"Or at least to the location at which the virus was manufactured," Optimus said. "Even if M.E.C.H. has abandoned the facility by now, we should be able to obtain enough data to create an antivirus."

"That would be helpful," Ratchet grumbled. "So far, the tests performed on both Arcee and the Decepticreep have been inconclusive. The samples I extracted from their fuel lines have been… evasive, to say the least."

"So what's next?" asked Miko.

"We are currently searching for similar readings all around the Earth." Ratchet pointed to the holographic map of the planet that replaced the image of Knock Out. "The human satellites that agent Fowler allowed us to temporally commandeer should hasten the search. I would say that we will have an approximate location within the night cycle, hopefully with a margin of error of less than fifty cyber-miles."

Optimus nodded. "Not a small margin, but for Arcee's sake we shall take any advantage and turn it into success. Let us not forget that time is running, and that it's not exactly on our side."

"We'll get that antivirus in time, or find what's needed to make it." Bulkhead punched his own hand and almost made Miko fall with the brusque movement. "No matter what, Arcee will be saved."

The usual manifestations of bravery and optimism ran freely through team Prime, the little commotion making enough space for Ratchet to take Optimus Prime by an arm and discreetly drag him away from hearing range.

By the look on the Autobot leader's face, it was obvious that he didn't share his soldiers' fervor.

"How bad is it, Ratchet?"

The doctor lowered his gaze and shook his head slightly. "I've been monitoring Arcee's vital functions; the nanomites in her fuel lines are overriding her firewalls. Only the EMP bracelet I placed on her wrist prevents her systems from shutting down."

Optimus Prime was no scientist, but the look on his friend's face said more than any explanation.

"How long until the nanomites reach her spark chamber?" he said, unable to hide his preoccupation.

"No more than two solar cycles, perhaps less… You were right when you said that time is our biggest enemy."

"Then we should make the best use of the time we have left. Ratchet, redirect the primary active processes of our main computer to narrowing the search for the electromagnetic signature. I'll have Bulkhead and Bumblebee take the kids home. We will be on high alert during the next two days."

Neither of the two Autobots noticed the slim shadow that disappeared down the back corridor.

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry, Ratchet.<em>

Two hours later, the serious, yet always kind face remained motionless. Ratchet had always been one of those bots that was easy to read, and even though he was currently unconscious, Arcee could see through his offlined optics that he was worried about her.

She lowered her head. Hitting Ratchet with the circuit nullifier had been one of the hardest things she had ever done, as hard as it had been to introduce a phantom directive into the main computer's programming and make it warn of massive Decepticon activity on the other side of the planet. When the alarms triggered, she had been certain that Optimus Prime would order her to remain in the base in order to keep her safe. Like everybody else, he was worried about her and wouldn't put her at risk. Ironic, as she was about to die anyway.

She put a hand on Ratchet's arm, making sure that he was comfortably placed on his recharge berth. He would have a pit of a cranial unit-ache when he came back online, but at least he would be innocent of Arcee's violation of the Autobot code.

She had always respected the rules religiously, loyalty being her most sacred asset. This time, however, her actions had been guided by something higher than loyalty: the welfare of her team. As a long experienced soldier, she had found that, so far, all of her ethics and behavior codes had fitted well. This was the first time they had proven to be enemies, and also carriers of severe doubts about her own integrity as an Autobot warrior.

Her mistakes were her own, she reminded herself as she walked down the long corridor with guilt as her only companion. Her wrist still hurt; the same wrist that had hit Ratchet in the back with the circuit nullifier. It was also the same wrist that wore the EMP bracelet that kept her alive.

She shook her head, frowning when she caught a glimpse of her own image as she sped through the corridor. Arcee was familiar with regret. As a soldier, she knew well that things didn't go as planned all the time. And every time it happened, regret turned out to be the only partner she had. But even in the worst times – when two, deceased faces flashed painfully before her optics – she remembered that she wouldn't let it happen again; she would never endanger any of her teammates no matter the reason. And, in her opinion, her own life was the most insignificant reason of all.

"Scrap," she said in low voice as she placed a hand on the wall to support her weight, which had suddenly become unbearable. It took her some astro-kliks and a quick internal scan to realize that her equilibrium chip had malfunctioned. A pulse from her EMP bracelet managed to stabilize it almost immediately, but it was an alarming reminder of the foreign agents that were working inside her body with the only mission to terminate her. She had to get rid of those nanomites as soon as possible, or at least take them as far away as she could from her fellow Autobots to prevent any contagion from spreading.

She consulted her internal chronometer for the seventh time since she had started what felt like a very long walk through the corridor. Ratchet would be offline for at least three breems, and Prime and the team would take at least twice that time to realize that there was no Decepticon threat in China. It was more than enough time for her to complete her plan.

She snorted. _Plan? _The truth was that after entering the Ground Bridge she would stand in unknown territory, but at least she would have the certainty that no harm would come to Bulkhead and the others. They would disapprove of her methods, of course, but they had an important mission to fulfill on planet Earth and she was determined not to become an obstacle.

She stopped when she reached the door of the brig, taking a moment to ponder her next course of action. Removing the prisoner from his cell – especially considering that he may still be the key for Ratchet to create an antivirus – was definitely not one of the most intelligent things she had ever done, but once again she remembered that she had to take care of her most precious treasure, and that was the safety of her kind. She wasn't going to leave an infected and potentially contagious mech inside the base; she would die a million times before doing that.

The door slid open in silence, as silent as her own steps. She was becoming more and more uncomfortable, but she had no choice.

She found her target standing by the back wall, his gaze fixed on the grey, sterile surface. Arcee frowned. Had the Decepticon gone insane? If that's how the virus started its terminal labor, then she had even less time than she had thought.

Her first impression turned out to be wrong – and hence a relief – when she noticed that the Decepticon was actually trying to get a reflection of his face in the unpolished surface. Arcee couldn't help getting annoyed. Like herself, he was dying, and yet the vain jerk longed for a mirror instead of a cure? That Decepticon scum was, by far, the most arrogant and shallowest mech Arcee had ever met. She cursed the virus for the weak – and very embarrassing – feelings she had been forced to compute in his presence. Fortunately, her current resolution was so strong that she was sure that she had overcome those bizarre lapses.

"You shouldn't turn your back on the enemy, Decepticon. Had this been the battlefield, you would be terminated already."

However, he didn't seem surprised to hear to her voice. "Why, but if it isn't my not-so-beautiful other half," he said, turning around. "Sorry if I disappointed you by not being startled, _schöne Frau_, but would you believe me if I told you that I felt your proximity?"

Yes, Arcee believed him. The same thing happened to her; every time she walked away from the despicable 'Con, the nanomites corroding her circuits made sure to remind her that she needed him close.

"But now that you are here, you could make yourself useful." He approached the energy bars. "How bad is it?"

Her first thought was that Knock Out was talking about their situation, but once again it proved to be wrong. The blasted Decepticon turned his cheek to her, the dim lights of the cell illuminating the scratch that altered his perfect facial features slightly.

"Worse than you think," she said curtly.

He stepped back, scandalized. "What?" His amazement turned to anger immediately. "Well, this is all your fault! Yours and your stupid boyfriend's!"

Bulkhead had only reacted to provocation. Arcee appreciated him, but she didn't appreciate being over-protected. Despite playing in a team, she had always been a loner that feared failing her friends more than she feared termination itself. That was the reason for her presence in the brig in the first place.

"The final countdown has started, and yet here you are talking about trivialities". She was aware that every nano-second counted, so she felt no need to clarify that Bulkhead was not her _boyfriend._

"Do you call _this _trivial?" He instinctively tried to point at the scratch on his cheek – which was barely noticeable, to be honest – but the manacles behind his back kept his arms restrained.

"Now it is trivial, but in two solar cycles it will be nothing, because that's absolutely what you will be."

His optics widened in shock. Finally, it seemed that his egotistical processor had gotten the picture.

"The virus…"

"It has started its final phase. Either we get a cure or our systems will shut down irreversibly."

"And where's that cure?" he said, approaching the bars again. "Your poor excuse for a medic had a picnic stripping me down. He should have come up with an antivirus by now."

"The samples extracted from both our fuel lines were insufficient to create an antivirus."

"Well, that's wonderful!" Knock Out kicked the wall. "I told you he was a good-for-nothing antiquity, didn't I? Now release me! Since you Auto-fools have proven to be nothing but absolutely incompetent, it's on me to find a slagging cure. Release me!"

Despite his rant, he seemed genuinely surprised when Arcee typed a code on the wall panel and the energy bars disappeared.

"That… was more intelligent than I gave you credit for," he said, stepping out of the cell. "Now remove these manacles and take me to a laboratory. It's time for a _real_ scientist to take over."

What he got was the canon of Arcee's blaster at the back of his head. "I won't waste precious time embarrassing you about what a real scientist is, Decepticon. Now walk."

"Where to?" He tried to look at her but she pushed him and forced him to walk.

"I said walk," she said, using the most severe tone she had heard coming out of her vocalizer.

* * *

><p>"Empty house?" Knock Out asked as he looked around the Control Room. "Where is everybody? Is this Autobot movie night? Are you showing a human horror movie, by any chance?"<p>

Arcee didn't reply, too busy typing on the computer. She had made sure to keep Knock Out at a safe distance from her. Despite the fact that his hands were manacled behind his back, she had no doubt that he had all kind of nasty tricks in storage.

"It would be easier if you tell me what you are doing, femme. Perhaps you haven't realized it, but my life is at stake whilst you waste precious time fooling around!" It was remarkable how his voice could go from calmed to crazed in the blink of an optic.

Arcee approached him and pointed her blaster at his face. He cringed, narrowing one of his optics by instinct.

"Still haven't got it, _doctor?" _she said, forcing him to approach a nearby scanner."That doesn't speak much for the scientist you claim to be."

Without adding more, she brusquely made him bend down and hit his head against the scanner.

"Ugh! I didn't have any idea that you liked it rough. I usually like to be on top, you know…"

She frowned, increasing the pressure on his head. "I'm going to say this just once, Decepticreep", she said, leaning down. "We are facing a terminal shutdown situation. Next time you make a joke – especially one of _that _kind – you will know what my blaster feels like firing upon your rims. Are we clear?"

Knock Out narrowed his optics, partially blinded by the intense light of the scanner. "Mm… So we're not in the best mood tonight, are we? Understandable, given the fact that we are about to die. Can you at least tell me what are you doing?"

"You said you wanted a cure. Well, this is the next best thing."

"I don't see how smashing my face against a blasted scanner can provide a cure," he growled, pushing his head back and managing to break Arcee's grip.

She pointed at the hologram that had just appeared over the main console. "Step back and take a look at the map that is about to show."

"Map?" Knock Out looked more confused by the minute.

"I said step back!" Her blaster was much more convincing that her words, scorching the floor at few cyber-inches from his feet. She wouldn't hesitate to shoot the Decepticon, but she needed him functional.

"I insist that filling me in wouldn't kill you faster than the virus," he said, ill-humored but obedient in getting away from her. "Do I have to remind you who the only scientist in the room is? This is getting annoyingly repetitive."

Arcee didn't reply and turned to the scanner. What followed wouldn't be pleasant, but it had to be done to acquire the location she was looking for. She had to be quick, she had to be efficient, but most of all, she had to make sure she wouldn't black out. Her last stand was yet to be made and she couldn't afford to let the nanomites win the battle so early. She also had to keep in mind that the mech standing so close to her had disposed of many Autobots on his dissection table. Perhaps even Cliffjumper…

She suffocated the painful feeling that almost made her choke. She had to focus on her mission.

Her actions were faster than her thoughts. In a nano-second, the EMP bracelet was off of her wrist. But that was not the case of the pain; that attacked immediately, disrupting her equilibrium chip again and making her stagger. Her main systems started to malfunction, giving her a little taste of what death felt like. Perhaps she had even less than those two solar cycles that Ratchet had said.

"What… is happening to you?" she heard the Decepticon behind her.

"T-the map… The map!" she managed to yell within the agony as she placed her own head on the scanner. Hopefully… _miraculously _her own energy signature would complete the mix. Ratchet hadn't dared take that step in order to avoid hurting her, but she would do it a million times if necessary if the reward was keeping the Autobots safe.

She returned the bracelet to her wrist when her inner alarms announced stasis lock. Her legs were barely able to sustain her, the gyros inside her head continuing their insane twists for some astro-seconds more before she could get a clear image of Knock Out. Fortunately, his attention was focused on the hologram above the computer.

She should have felt satisfied by the red dot blinking on the map, but experience had taught her that there was no such thing as anticipated success.

"Is that the location I think it is?" Knock Out asked, turning to her. "You took a scan of our energy fields and rerouted it to a net of satellites, most likely of human origin, to track an electromagnetic reading… not bad."

She stood up laboriously, ordering her systems to return to optimal status as soon as possible, or at least something similar.

"If there's an antivirus or a way to create it, that's the only place to find it," she said, doing her best to control the shaking of her legs. She couldn't afford to show weakness in front of Knock Out.

"And what is that place? A laboratory? A military base?"

"Probably both."

Knock Out looked around. "And where are your Autobot friends? Now that we have these coordinates, they can open a Ground Bridge and retrieve the intel." Arcee could hear hope in his voice.

She denied it with her head. "This is not their problem. I'll go to that human base and obtain the antivirus myself."

"That's the first intelligent thing I've heard you say." Knock Out leaned on the ledge of the console and crossed his legs, getting comfortable. "You have my blessings, milady. Go, save the day! And don't forget to bring me a souvenir."

Arcee typed the coordinates into the computer and the portal opened, the shining light engulfing her severe face. "I'd get my aft off there if I were you, Deceptiscum, because you're coming with me."

The way in which amazement took the place of arrogance on his smooth facial features was priceless.

_To be continued._

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><p><em>Knock Out watches human horror movies. We all knew that.<em>

_Thank you very much for your feedback. Please keep it flowing :o)_


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